


Warm Bodies

by ArtemisRayne



Category: Haven - Fandom, Warm Bodies (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mild Gore, Supernatural Elements, Warm Bodies AU, Zombie Apocalypse, alternating first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 54,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of the undead, N is different from his fellow Corpses. He wants to live and think and feel. So when he encounters the human girl Audrey and suddenly feels the flickers of life for the first time since his death, he has to know more. </p><p>Does something about her hold the key to a cure? Or is their forbidden friendship doomed to end in death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, happy new year, and welcome to my newest Haven fic. This time I decided to go AU on everything, so we get the characters from Haven with the plot of the film "Warm Bodies." (If you haven't seen it yet, you should. It's brilliant!) Yep, that's right, Haven plus zombies. It's gonna be a blast :)
> 
> Also if anyone is into graphic arts, I'm looking for a cover for this story. Message me if you're interested!
> 
> Updates every Friday and, as usual, I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

**N**

I can't really say for sure exactly how this whole thing started. Not sure if anyone can, really. Most of us don't have any memories from Before, and those who do are more interested in putting bullets in our heads than chatting. Not that we've tried. Or that we can even really talk. I'm getting off track, though. I don't know what caused this whole mess. Could've been genetic mutations, virus, radioactive sheep, alien biochemical warfare. It doesn't really matter how it happened, all that matters is that it did. One day the world was fine, and the next day half the world's population died. And then came back as Corpses.

Yeah, with a capital C. Because we're not just dead, we're _un_ dead.

And I say 'we' because I'm one of them. I don't have any memories from Before I died. Hell, I don't even remember how I died, come to think of it. Some of us, you can tell something about who they were Before. For example, take that guy over there in the fatigues. He was clearly military, probably sent in to deal with the Corpse problem, before he got his arm gnawed off. Bad luck there, buddy. Then that lady there was some high-powered businesswoman, judging by what was probably once a nice suit.

Me, well it's a bit harder to tell. Not a whole lot you can make out of a tall, lanky guy in jeans and a henley. Short, brown hair and eyes that were probably blue before the zombie-fog set in. Heavy jacket with a hood and standard black boots. Other than that there's not much in the way of signifying features: no wedding ring or wallet. Not even any tattoos or piercings that I've found so far, not that I'm prone to checking. I could've been anything. Any _one_. I don't even know my name. I think it might've started with an N, but that's the best I've got.

I stagger down the street passed a Corpse who is jerkily scrubbing a window. And by that I mean he's been at it so long that the rag and his skin have rubbed away, so all he's doing is smearing his own blood and tissue over the glass. Gross, dude. Some of us get stuck; stalled. Muscle memories left over from Before is my theory. It doesn't matter, though, we all snap out of it once the Hunger sets in. In the end, we really only have two things on our agenda: walking - or well,  _shuffling_  - and eating.

That's all we have left.

When that's all you have to look forward to every day, it's pretty easy to give up hope. It's not exactly fun, being a monster. But you have to find something to hold on to, or else you become one of Them. The high-pitched snarl makes me look down the alley I've passed even though I know that territorial warning. A Boney. Nothing more than a skeleton with dried up muscles and an insatiable appetite, Boneys are what we all become eventually. They will eat anything with a heartbeat, and I mean  _anything_.

I mean, yeah, so do I, but at least I feel bad about it afterwards.

I don't like living this way. I want more from life -  _afterlife?_  - than just wandering around and killing people. I hate the isolation and the loneliness. Sure there are others all around me, but there's no connection. We don't associate with each other apart from occasional hunting parties. There has to be more to the world than this mindlessness. I want to think and experience and  _feel_. And I mean that literally; Corpses don't exactly have fully functional nervous systems. I want to know warm and cold and pain. Anything has to be better than this numb emptiness.

My feet guide me along a familiar path, one I've travelled what must be hundreds of times. I've been hanging around this town for a long time now. It might've been where I died, but I'm not sure. My memory of waking up is fuzzy; just the blind Hunger pushing me on. It's a decent-sized place, a bit outside the bigger city, with lots of homes and shops to wander through. I like that; I like to look at all the things that got left behind. I don't know what most of them are or what they do, but I collect them. They fascinate me. And it passes the time between meals. Not like Corpses sleep.

I've set myself up in a little place on the edge of town where I don't have to worry about the others messing with my stuff. Pretty much the whole square building is full of shelves, which is convenient. I think it was a bookshop once because when I moved in, there were broken books littered all over. I saved the ones I could and tucked them away in the shelves, although I might have put them back together wrong because I can't read much. Not one of the skills that carried over from Before unfortunately. That sure would help pass the time.

I let myself in through the back door - the front is blocked by the collapsed awning - and wander up to the nearest shelf. I pull out the bit of shaped glass from my jacket pocket and set it down next to a stack of playing cards. I found it on the mantle of a house that morning, a little piece of dusty glass carved to look like a flower. A few of the petals have broken off, but it doesn't bother me. It's pretty, a bit of nice in a world full of dead, and those are my favourites.

Well, that and music. I stumble, tripping over a stack of blankets I forgot about, on my way to the desk in the front of the building where I keep my special collection. The ancient record player is a bit battered, deep scratches in the wood panel along the right side and one of its feet missing, but it still works. There's a vinyl still sitting on the turntable from yesterday. My fingers are stiff, and it's hard to grab the arm, but I finally get it into place, and then it's the best part.

The crackle. The rustling sound as the needle finds its groove, and then the dull thump. A bass beat, like the throb of a heart, right before the music starts. It's so -  _alive_.

The keening, wavering voice rolls out of the record as I settle down in my usual spot, a pile of cushions in the nearest corner. I lay back and look up at the ceiling where water damage and scratches have painted a mural on the plaster. The Hunger is building; I can feel it starting to claw at my insides. Tomorrow I will have to start the long walk to the city and find something - some _one_  - to eat. But tonight...

Tonight it's just me and the music.

* * *

**AUDREY**

Seven years. I had just turned eighteen, the whole world spread out at my feet, and then the world had ended. Well, not technically, but a zombie apocalypse is pretty damn close. It sure feels like it sometimes.

I had always thought that zombies were just stories, the sort of horror movie monsters used to scare jumpy teenage girls. I can still remember the first time I saw one in real life. It was back at the very beginning, way before I made it to the Compound - known as Haven by the more optimistic occupants - when the world was still reeling from this sudden new epidemic. I was out in Ohio at the time, still living in the same grubby little town where I'd grown up. I had made plans to leave, travel the world, but then suddenly there were people on the television telling us to stay inside and lock our doors.

So I'd gone back to the orphanage, the closest thing I'd ever had to a home. The town was quiet and eerie, everyone hiding in their boarded up houses. I went into the orphanage - it was so still, so silent - and in the main hall, there were bodies; children in matching uniforms, their skin striped with red and their skulls smashed in.

I turned to run, but there, in the doorway, was Sister Agnes. Only she didn't look like Sister Agnes anymore. Her skin was pale except for dark bruising around her eyes and purple veins along her neck. Those dark brown eyes that had so often been narrowed in disapproval at me as a child had faded over with a sickly grey fog. And worst of all, fresh blood stained her lower jaw and bits of flesh were caught in her bared teeth.

I thought zombie movies were bad, but nothing -  _nothing_  - compares to the reality of nearly being eaten by someone you know.

"Audrey?"

I startle out of my thoughts and realise that my best friend's face is only a few inches from mine. I flinch backwards in surprise. "Jesus, Duke," I say indignantly, putting a hand over my racing heart.

"Welcome back, Dolly Daydream," he replies with a smirk, straightening up and folding his arms over his chest. "Nice fantasy?"

"Not particularly," I admit with a grimace, but there's something about the scruffy rogue's presence that always makes me feel better. He saved my life in a lake east of Niagara Falls when a Corpse shoved me off a pier, and we've been inseparable ever since. We don't know much about each other's pasts - although I suspect his might involve some acts of a dubious moral ambiguity - but it doesn't matter. He brings a bit of fun and humour into this world of death.

"Need a little cheering up?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I laugh and slap him in the chest. "Thanks but no thanks, Casanova."

Duke shrugs and combs his long brown hair back into a ponytail, securing it with one of the elastics around his wrist. "Can't say I didn't try," he says unconcernedly. "Anyway, I just came to grab you. It's go time."

I stand up straighter and instinctively place a hand on the holster on my hip. It's time for another supply run out into the Dead Zone. They are days I look forward to and dread in equal measure. Nodding, I grab my jacket from the back of the chair and pull it on. "Right then, let's rock and roll," I say.

Duke grins. "You enjoy these a little too much," he says pointedly as we head out of the large house we live in and into the Compound.

"It's just nice to get outside these walls for a while," I say, glaring contemptuously at the enormous steel and stone walls that encircle the Compound. I know they keep the dead out and they're there for our protection, but I've never been fond of feeling trapped. It turns out even the apocalypse didn't change that part of me.

"You're mental. And maybe a little bit suicidal," Duke says but he nudges me with his elbow to show he's joking. As we approach the meeting point just inside of the gates, he lets out a soft groan. "Oh, of course, he's coming as well."

"Be nice," I say, rolling my eyes. I walk up to the dark-haired man waiting stiffly at the gate, his shotgun slung across his back and a scowl on his face. "Hi, Chris," I say, leaning in to kiss him.

Chris turns his head at the last second, so my kiss lands on his cheek instead of his lips. "Audrey," he responds, the affection still there beneath his stoicism. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I say, trying not to feel too disappointed at his coldness. It hadn't always been this way, and he's better when we're alone, but he takes his position of authority very seriously. I glance around at the four others with us while I collect myself and then turn back to meet Chris' ice-blue gaze. "Where are we going?"

"Med salvage," Chris answers tightly, his left hand clenching and unclenching around the hilt of the knife at his side. "Hospital down over the old state line." One of the wall soldiers wanders down through the group and checks our papers, and then nods us over the screen against the wall. I settle myself between Chris and Duke and watch as the grainy image flickers into life on the television.

The familiar, wrinkled face of Vince Teagues appears on the screen, his curled grey hair hanging heavy around his cheeks. I'm torn between fondness and frustration at the sight of him. When Duke and I had first arrived at the Compound, emaciated and nearly dead, Vince and his brother Dave had taken us both in and nursed us back to life personally. Even now, he insists we share his house, giving us bedrooms in the enormous manor house designated for the leader of the Compound.

At the same time, I don't agree with the way he manages things here. His idea of preserving humanity is to hide everyone inside this giant fortress and just exist in this miserable stasis. He's not even putting in much effort to find a cure, a way to fix things. I don't want to just linger and wait for things to get better. I want to do something to help.

Too bad I don't understand enough about science to do any research myself.

The Vince on the screen lets out a world-weary sigh and steeples his fingers together. "Thank you for your dedication and service," he says, his firm, leader voice not completely masking the huffing wheeze of an old man. "You know how essential these trips are, acquiring the supplies necessary to keep our people healthy and alive. I know that you-"

"You reckon we're going to find medicine for the cure this time?" I murmur to Duke, toning out the pre-recorded message. It's not like I haven't seen it before.

On my other side, Chris makes a derisive noise. "Nobody believes in cures anymore, Audrey, don't be ridiculous." Duke shoots a significant look at Chris and then puts a hand on my shoulder. Still, the sympathetic half-smile he gives me tells me he's sceptical about there being a cure as well. Why has everyone given up?

"-even if they look like your mother, your brother, your friend, they are  _monsters_. You cannot hesitate, but if you remember your training, you will survive. Thank you all," Vince says, "and return safely to Haven. Good luck and God bless America."

"So patriotic," Duke says sarcastically. "Really, I'm moved." I try to hide a smile as the wall guards open the gate and usher us forward. Now's probably not a good time to be laughing. We all shoulder the backpacks they offer out to us and then step passed the gaping entrance into the garage. It's nothing more than a cavernous warehouse where we store all of the vehicles we've managed to salvage - which isn't very many for such a big population - and anything needed to maintain them. If they're designating a car for us, then they're sending us much farther than usual, out of the standard scouting zones.

We all pile into a utility van, two of the larger men taking the front seats while the rest of us settle down on the hard floor in the back. It's uncomfortable, everyone knee-to-knee and our breath making the air fill thick and humid. I can feel the butt of Duke's gun pressing against my hip. There's a petrol can tucked in the corner, and even though it's capped, the acidic smell is heavy and makes my nose itch.

The soldier starts the van and outside the others pull open the front gates. The old van hums and vibrates as it rolls out of the Compound and into the open world beyond. As sunlight filters through the windscreen and illuminates the motes of dust swirling in the back compartment, the driver says, "Welcome to the Dead Zone, folks."

"Cheery, that," Duke says dryly. One of the women in our group, a pretty black girl with a mass of curls, laughs appreciatively at the statement. Chris and the other man in the front scowl. Ignoring them, Duke adjusts the strap on his military grade rifle and shrugs. "What? This place is depressing enough as it is, no need to be so glum and dark or it's going to be a long trip. How long a trip is it anyway?"

"Two days, round trip, if we keep a good pace," Chris answers curtly.

Two days. Forty-eight hours outside of the safety and protection of the Compound. It's not the first time, and hardly the longest, but I know it's going to be a dangerous trip. I don't want to calculate the odds of us making it there and back without encountering a zombie horde. Or the odds of us all making it back alive. I unzip my jacket to counter the sticky air in the van, straighten my shoulders and take a deep breath.

At least I'm out of that stuffy fortress.


	2. Chapter Two

**N**

Call me sentimental, but I like watching the sunrise. Well, that’s a lie, or maybe an exaggeration. Sometimes, if I’m out all night - which I don’t often do because the Boneys creep me out - I’ll stop and watch the sun creeping up over the ruined skyline. What I really love though is watching morning come inside of my house. I’ve filled the windows that face the sunrise with trinkets, anything transparent but colourful that I can find. Coloured glass, broken bottles, bits of thin fabric, even a stripe of blue and yellow I drew on the glass with markers. The windowsills are cluttered with them, and some of them hang off the broken frame of the window, the ones I managed to tie up or pin in place with my clumsy fingers.

So I lay on my back and watch the haphazard jumble of colours blossom into life on the ceiling as the first rays of sunlight creep over the horizon. It’s an explosion, a cacophony, a symphony of light and colour. Where did I learn those words anyway? Weird. Maybe I was a poet Before? I stare in fascination at the ever-shifting mass of colours as it crawls gradually toward the top corner of the wall and then I finally get myself up and moving.

I switch off my record player before letting myself out of the house. I’m hungry and need to eat, but there’s one more stop to make first. I shuffle across town, several streets down to a building that used to be some sort of office, I reckon. It’s the place where I can always find him. I stumble up the steps and into the cramped space, weaving through upturned tables and filing cabinets until I get to the room in the very back, where my best friend is sitting.

And I use the term ‘best friend’ _very_ loosely. Mostly it means we hang around the same areas, and we occasionally groan and stare a lot in a pathetic attempt at conversation.

He’s a strange guy, really, a bit taciturn in mood. A lot older than me, if his grey hair and wrinkled face are anything to go by. I think he must’ve been some sort of official Before because his blue shirt has yellow shields and stripes sewn onto the shoulders and his belt has a lot of unnecessary clips attached to it. When he’s not out hunting, he spends most of his time lingering around the office or just sitting behind the desk and staring, like he’s doing now.

I drop into the chair in front of his desk, and he looks at me, cocking his head. “Grrr,” I greet, my weak voice box stumbling over the single syllable. A while back I managed to ask him his name - by saying the word ‘name’ and tilting my head questioningly - and the most response he made was Gr. I’m assuming it’s the start of his name, like mine. Either that or he was growling at me comedically, but I doubt that. He doesn’t seem like the sort of guy to have a sense of humour. It’s not much of a name, but it makes it easier to address each other.

“Nnn,” he slurs back.

I stare in fascination at a cracked photo frame on his desk, the glass and picture missing but the tarnished silver frame still standing erect in a place of honour. I wonder what picture used to sit there. For some reason seeing it makes me sad. Trying to coax my atrophied vocal cords into movement again, I manage two whole syllables this time. “Hun-greee.”

Gr nods, standing up and planting his hands on the desktop in an almost intimidating stance. “Sih-tee,” he responds. I grunt in agreement and stand up as well, walking in front of him out of the office.

I don’t know why I always go to Gr first before going on a hunt. Might be that I like his company, although since we’re Corpses that doesn’t actually entail much. I don’t even know what it is about him that drew us together. I just vaguely remember him being there in the early days right After. Maybe he’s the one who turned me, or maybe he’s just the poor soul who didn’t get the chance to finish me off before I came back. Either way, we always seem to end up travelling together when we venture out into the human world.

We accumulate a bit of a crowd as we make our way out of town and onto the main highway. It doesn’t bother me. It’s always safer to hunt in a pack anyway since the humans are all so trigger-happy. When there’s a lot of us, it lowers the chances one of us will take a bullet to the brain, which is perfectly fine with me. I may not love being a Corpse, but I’d still rather not die. You know, _again_.

The cities all looked trashed and dismal, but out here on the open highway between the towns it’s almost pleasant. There aren’t any crumbling buildings and fewer moving things. Just trees and grass and the wind. And rusted out cars and the occasional bit of person that hasn’t been carried off by a Corpse or animal yet. But still, it’s calmer and quieter than in the city, apart from our shuffles and moans as we creep along at a pace like tree sap in winter.

Jesus Christ, we are slow.

* * *

**AUDREY**

I have never had to sit through a more painfully uncomfortable trip than this one. The air is thick and humid, and the half-open windows in the front of the van do nothing for easing that. It only gets hotter as it gets further into the day. The van has no discernible shocks or suspension, and after the first two hours, we all stop apologising for jostling into each other. Instead, an awkward, irritable quiet settles between us.

As the sun sinks closer to the horizon, I reach out for Chris' hand. Night is always the worst in the Dead Zone. It’s so difficult to see in the darkness, but that change doesn’t bother the Corpses. They lurch at you out of the shadows, and they’ll have their teeth in you before you can do anything to stop them. Chris threads his fingers with mine, but he doesn't acknowledge the gesture any more than that. I don’t comment on it because at least he didn’t shake me off like he normally does when we’re with others.

“Nearly there, folks,” the driver announces over his shoulder. “Get yourselves ready.”

Chris immediately drops my hand, turning his attention to making sure that his gun is armed and his pack is prepared. I bite back a sigh and catch the sympathetic look Duke gives me as he adjusts the straps on his forearm that hold a throwing knife in place. I follow suit with everyone else and start double-checking my equipment. No time for being sentimental in the Dead Zone.

The driver pulls the van up behind a large, rectangular building with a broken red cross on the top floor, backing up so the rear doors face the hospital. Once the van is shut off, Chris nods to the man closest to the doors. The man - a sweet little wall guard with a receding hairline and gentle eyes - nods back and carefully open the doors, checking around in both directions. After a tense moment, he motions for us with a quiet, "All clear."

Duke offers me a hand as I jump down out of the back of the cargo hold, and he squeezes it fondly before taking up his rifle again. I give him a small smile in return, understanding the message: be safe. I adjust the strap of my pack, draw the 9mm from my hip holster, and follow the others into the derelict hospital.

The whole place has an eerie, horror movie vibe. Doors are broken off frames, furniture broken and upturned, cupboards ransacked. Medical machines lay on their sides, screens cracked and wires hanging loose. There are distinct signs of squatters having been there at some point, but there are no signs of life. At least none that’s survived. Some of the rooms, pale and open, have beds stained with dark maroon and small remnants of bodies that were devoured by Corpses a long time ago.

“God, this place is creepy,” Duke murmurs as we walk through a ward where the beds are separated by blood-speckled, torn curtains that stir gently as our motion pushes air passed them. I can see on the other’s faces that they agree wholeheartedly, whether they want to admit it or not.

Chris and Soft-Eyes, following the placards still tacked on the dirty walls, lead us to a medical storage room. The first one is gutted, most everything of use taken or contaminated by blood and decay. We have to try three more of the storerooms before we find one on the second floor that is still fairly well stocked and apparently untouched.

“Alright, everyone, you know how this works,” Chris says and nods into the room. “We load up anything of necessity and leave the rest.” Everyone spreads out to different corners of the room, examining the products on the shelves before tossing them aside or shoving them into our backpacks.

I walk over to a row of boxes, and a look inside shows they contain plasters and wraps and ointments, all items in high demand back home. Infected injuries can kill you quick as anything, and the last thing we need are undead inside the Compound as well as outside. It happened once before; a man lost a finger, and he died of the infection. He reanimated that night and killed three people before someone killed him for good. They became a lot more meticulous about checking for injuries when coming back to the Compound after that.

“Mmm, look, guys: Vicodin,” Duke says enthusiastically. “Anybody want to split some with me?” Chris gives him a stern look and opens his mouth, and Duke cuts across him quickly, “Oh relax, Mr Congeniality, I’m only kidding.” He tucks the bottles into his backpack, although out of the corner of my eye I see him slip one into his pocket. He smirks in my direction, knowing I saw, and then goes back to work. I try not to smile as I start stowing away a layer of antiseptics.

I’ve just picked up a suture kit when a distant thunk reaches my ears and I tense. “Did anyone else hear that?”

Everyone freezes for a tense minute, straining our ears for any hint of noise, but there’s nothing apart from laboured breathing. “It’s nothing, Audrey,” Chris says, walking over to stand behind me.

I frown, turning to face him. “We should get out of here,” I say decisively. These scavenging missions don’t do any good if we don't survive to bring the supplies home.

“We can’t just leave,” Chris says and he fixes me with a patronising look. “You know how important these missions are. Haven needs this medicine and it’s our job to gather-”

I wave him off, stepping out from between him and the shelf to cross the room. I need to put some distance between us before I slap that look off his face. “Yeah, okay _Vince_ ,” I say sarcastically.

Chris snorts, following close behind me. “Flattery doesn’t win arguments.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment,” I reply shortly, picking up a box of syringes to avoid looking at him. God, he can be so argumentative sometimes, I just want to -

Another crashing sound, louder this time, makes us all look up. “Okay, I definitely heard it that time,” Duke chimes in. “Seriously, Brody, I think it’s time to split.”

“It’s nothing,” Chris says but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced, walking toward the door and squinting through the dingy glass panel. “Probably just the wind knocking something over, it’s fine.” He turns around and starts walking back into the room, giving me a slightly annoyed look. As he does, my gaze slips passed him and I feel my heart drop into my stomach at full speed.

“Chris!”

 


	3. Chapter Three

**N**

The first two times I smell food, the meal has already been claimed by a Boney. They snarl at us as we pass them, crouched over their catch and clutching the still bleeding organs defensively. Each time, Gr nudges me on faster, almost protectively, until we are out of range. We have to travel further into the city, deeper than I’ve ever been before, to the area where the buildings climb into the sky and graffiti decorates abandoned cabs and police cars.

We’re shuffling passed a large whitish building when I suddenly catch a whiff of life. I pause, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply. Yes, that’s definitely live food. I grunt, and Gr imitates my inhale. The corner of his lips twitches just slightly in a show of excitement. I nod, and we head up the steps into the building, following the smell of warmth and flesh.

Once we’re inside, I can tell that this building used to be a hospital. There are beds and wheelchairs and electronic equipment that’s long since died. The part of me that still recognises irony stirs into life. People have always taken sanctuary from death in this place, and yet here come the dead to claim the living all the same. Nice to know some things never really change. It’s almost poetic, in a disturbingly macabre way.

The Hunger is twisting up my insides, and the smell of flesh is getting stronger as we shamble up a service staircase to the next floor. I bump into a chair, and it tips over onto its back while I stagger to regain my balance. A few feet further down the hall one of the others knocks a plastic bin off a table, and it clatters loudly on the tile. It doesn’t matter; we’re so close now there’s no escape for the humans. Eager moans roll from our group as we get closer to the door that separates us from our dinner. I can see the back of a person’s head through the window panel in the door, and my heart would’ve leapt if it still worked.

I crash through the door and almost immediately take the butt of a rifle to the face, sending me sprawling. That turns out to be my saving grace because a spray of bullets strikes right through where I was standing. A redheaded Corpse collapses instead with a drop of brown blood oozing from the hole in her forehead.

The humans are shouting, and the Corpses are growling, and the whole place has descended into absolute chaos. I look up in time to see two Corpses team up on a man with thinning hair, and he shrieks as they bite into his flesh. I’m still struggling to get back to my feet, my stiff, awkward limbs refusing to cooperate. I’ve managed to get up on one knee when it happens.

I see _her._

She slides out from behind the shelter of a shelf, a handgun held aloft in a steady grip as she puts a bullet in the temple of a Corpse to my left. She’s beautiful. She’s got hair like spun gold, strands hanging loose from her ponytail to frame her flushed, round cheeks. Her sky blue eyes are narrowed in focus, her rosebud lips pursed as she concentrates on her target. It’s so much more than just her looks, though. She’s so _alive_. She is fire and passion and energy. She’s like a perfect classic rock ballad, with strength and fight beneath the soft words and story. She is the will to live. Looking at her almost makes me feel something more than just Hunger. It’s like - _hope_.

The woman rolls back into her hiding place, and I immediately shove myself to my feet, determined to follow. I don’t care that I’m a Corpse and she’s a human, or that’s she’s got a loaded gun in her hand that will put me in my place permanently. All I know is that something about her makes me feel alive, and I need to know why.

My shoulder whips backwards at the impact of a shot, and I turn to look at the perpetrator. The man from the door, the one who hit me with his gun, is standing on top of a table to get a better vantage point. Eyes like ice are narrowed, and he sneers as he aims the rifle at my face. “Take this, fucker.”

The girl may be off-limits, but this bastard’s not. He just put another hole in my favourite - and admittedly, _only_ \- jacket. I snarl and launch myself at him, the second bullet sailing clean over my head. He yells when I grab his leg and pull him down off the table, his head hitting the granite on the way. I twist his arm up and sink my teeth into the forearm, feeling the tendons and muscle shredding beneath the pressure. My stomach hums in pleasure at each swallow, grateful to finally be fed.

Now don’t misunderstand me. I don’t like killing people. I hate it, honestly. I don’t like living like this. But the Hunger is _so strong_. I can’t help myself. It’s this or give up and become a Boney, and I’m not ready for that yet. I do this because I have to, nothing more than that.

The man is still thrashing and screaming at me. I grab him roughly by the throat, noticing an interesting pendant around his neck as I do, and bash his head against the floor. The resultant crack is cringe-worthy, even to me and I’ve still got a mouthful of bloody tissue, so obviously my sensibilities are skewed. I shove once, twice, three times, until he finally goes limp with a particularly gross crunching sound that drips intracranial fluid onto my fingers.

Now at this point, I could just leave him - eat just enough more to be full and then be done - then he’ll come back as one of us. But if I eat his brains, he’ll stay dead and I’ll get his memories. It’s horrible, I know, but it feels so good. It makes me feel alive again, if only for a few brief moments. I’m sorry, but I have to do it. It’s the best part.

I plunge my hand through the shattered back of his skull and claw out a fistful of grey matter. It’s like gelatin on my tongue, and as I chew, I feel synapses in my head flare into life. My eyes cloud over with images not my own, and I sink into the thrill.

_...You pump your legs as fast as you can... Push, push, push... The exhilarating burn and buzz of active muscles... Nothing but green grass for miles in every direction, edged by the forest, all of it waiting to be explored and conquered... Wind whips over the hill, blowing your hair back off your forehead and making you feel like flying... Flying... Flying...You spread your arms, running, still running, and the wind makes you fly..._

I moan as the sensations of weightlessness and childish imagination fade, but a new memory follows directly on its heels.

_...The waves are cold... Cold... Bitterly cold as they wash up around your bare feet... You flex your toes and the wet sand squishes, sinks, sucks at you...You climb unsteadily over the rocky ridge that edges the beaches, and the stone is sharp. It bites, nips, scratches your soles... Pain... Pain but still pleasure... You crouch by a tide pool and examine the spongy vine-like plants growing there curiously... Happiness... Discovery... Purpose..._

_...Another morning almost identical, some ten years later... Doing the same thing, but now as a university student... Older, tired, harder... But still happy here... Comfortable... At home... Peaceful..._

I sigh. At home. What a wonderful feeling. Have I ever felt so calm before? I like my house, but I’m never peaceful. There’s always something; anxiety, frustration, loneliness, Hunger.

Never a calm like this.

The world is still going on around me, still screams and growls and death, but I greedily suck away the grey matter clinging to my palm. Just a little more, a few more seconds.

_...There’s a girl, a new girl, in Haven. You go to talk to Vince about a patrol concern and there she is, sitting on the sofa in his living room. Her cheeks are hollow, a sign of having been hungry for a while, but there’s colour in her skin, and she looks healthy, if wary. She looks up at you curiously, and you feel the weight of her bright blue eyes, making your heart jump. “Hi, I’m looking for Vince,” you say._

_“He had to run out on some business,” she replies. “He should be back soon if you want to wait.”_

_“Sure, thanks,” you say, and you take a seat in one of the mismatched armchairs. “I’m Chris.”_

_“Audrey,” she says and smiles..._

_...You stretch on the mattress and feel the comfortable warmth of Audrey curled against your side. You comb your fingers through her hair as she nuzzles into your chest. “I miss ice cream trucks,” she murmurs, tracing idle patterns on your stomach with a fingertip._

_You snort. “Ice cream trucks?”_

_“Yeah. Those creepy, music box songs that were somehow always off-tune. The way every kid in the neighbourhood screamed in excitement when they heard it,” she explains. “It’s just one of those things you take for granted, I guess.”_

_You smile fondly, turning to plant a kiss on her forehead. “It’s cute that you think of things like that,” you say. “Most people don’t bother.”_

_“Did you just call me cute, Brody?” she asks teasingly. She props herself up on her elbows, leaning over you. “How very eloquent and flattering.”_

_“You’re so annoying,” you say in amusement._

_“Ah, there’s my Chris,” she says, and she leans in, pressing her lips to yours. The emotions and sensations are fascinating, overpowering, as her mouth moves against yours. It’s some long minutes later when she pulls back, and her eyes bore straight into yours, seeing right through you. “Chris, I - I think I’m in love with you.”_

_Your heart is racing. Thrumming, pulsing, hammering away at a million miles an hour. This feeling, it’s like euphoria. She loves you. Love. Not just a silly crush, like the girls you liked in high school back before the world went to hell. This is real, eternal, forever._

_“Chris, don’t just stare at me,” she says and you can see the flash of panic in her eyes. Panic and desperation. “Say something. Anything. God, I shou-”_

_“Audrey,” you cut across her abruptly, “I think I love you too.” And then her lips touch yours again, and the world melts away..._

The images fade, and the world around me comes back into reality. It’s still madness and fighting; only a handful of seconds have passed. I look across at the blonde woman. _Audrey_. The feeling, the longing to understand her, is even stronger than before. I have to know.

I hastily jam a couple handfuls of brain and that curious necklace into the pocket of my jacket and then shove myself to my feet. Audrey sees me as I lurch forward and I see her eyes go wide in fear. Bracing herself, she levels a gun with my head, and I instinctively flinch as she pulls the trigger. The click of the empty barrel is loud, and I would've laughed if I could, in fact, laugh. Saved by an empty chamber. Turns out even the dead get lucky sometimes.

Cursing, she throws the gun away and reaches for her belt. With a sharp flick of her wrist, a dagger embeds itself in my abdomen. I stare at the handle in fascination - she has a hell of a throw to get it that far in - before pulling it out and dropping it. Audrey backs into a shelf and a look of panic lights in her eyes when she realises she has nowhere else to go. She crouches down, folding in on herself, as I get closer and kneel in front of her. She looks so scared. I need to do something to make her feel better.

“ _Awh_ -ree,” I mumble thickly. Damn it, those hard consonants are a bitch. One more try, I can do this. “ _Awh_ -dree.”

Nailed it.

 


	4. Chapter Four

**AUDREY**

"Chris!"

The cry has barely left my mouth before the storage room door is shoved open so hard it hits the wall and cracks the glass panel. The first Corpse charges toward Chris, and he takes it down by slamming the butt of his rifle into its face. Instinctively, I draw my gun and start firing into the pack. Everything around me dissolves into madness, and it's all I can do to focus on keeping myself alive. I lose track of Chris and Duke in the mess as I duck behind a shelf for safety and check the clip in my gun. Assured that I still have a few bullets, I roll sideways out into the aisle and take a carefully measured shot into the head of a red-haired Corpse woman. She makes a sickening noise as she crumples to the tile. Not wanting to stay in the eye-line of the Corpses for too long, I pitch myself back into my safe spot.

A hulking Corpse barrels around the corner of my shelf from the other side, and I hastily pivot. It has just lunged when I take the shot, and I get it point-blank in the jaw. As it falls, I quickly put another bullet in its brain, just in case I missed the first time. I hear a startled shout and round the corner to the next row to see Duke flying through the air. He hits the shelf and slumps to the ground in a heap, and the Corpse that threw him is bearing down hungrily. It takes me three shots before the Corpse's skull fractures and sprays congealed blood across Duke's unconscious figure. I hurry to check his pulse and make sure he's alive - the steady throbbing beneath my fingertips is the most welcome relief - before I straighten up and start searching through the fighting for Chris.

"Chris?" I yell, but I can't see him anywhere. The last I saw he'd jumped onto a countertop for better vantage, but he's not there anymore. In fact, it seems like all of our party is gone now, their still bodies littering the floor and twisted at grotesque angles as the Corpses tear into them greedily. "Chris!" I'm the only one still up and moving, and as far as I can tell I'm the only one still alive apart from Duke, who hasn't woken up from hitting his head yet.

A Corpse stands up from behind a counter, and I feel its clouded eyes fix firmly on me. My heart leaps frantically, and I lift my gun as it steps forward.  _Aim, breathe, squeeze,_  I remind myself of my gun training. I sight the gun on the Corpse's forehead and, letting out a shaky breath, pull the trigger. The hollow click of the barrel sends a whole new wave of panic through me. Empty. The chamber's empty.

Dropping the useless weapon, I grab the knife on my belt and throw it, hoping to slow the Corpse down enough for me to find a way out. The blade sinks into its chest with a squishy thunk and the Corpse pauses, and for a moment I think I see a look of surprise on its face, but then it's gone. Couldn't have been there in the first place. Corpses don't have feelings. It's just the terror and adrenaline playing tricks on me. I back up carefully, my eyes panning around for some escape route, but there are clusters of Corpses eating in front of either entrance to the room. There's nothing. My back hits the shelf. I'm trapped. I'm about to die.

My knees go weak, and I fall to sit on my heels, curling in on myself defensively. There's blood and gore on the Corpse's chin, in its teeth, as it kneels in front of me, and I hold back a sob. Even if I could get away from this Corpse, there are still a half dozen of them between me and freedom, and that's providing I could outrun them long enough to get to the van. I'm going to die. I hope it doesn't hurt. I should've kept my knife to finish myself quickly. The Corpse mumbles something, a hoarse, guttural sort of noise and I flinch. I wish it would stop staring at me like that and just get it over with.

" _Awh_ -dree."

My head shoots up, and I stare at the Corpse in shock. Did it just...? It was weak and forced, like the word cost it a lot of effort, but I could've sworn it just said my name. But that's impossible. Corpses don't talk. They don't think. And how the hell did it know my name in the first place?

The Corpse meets my gaze with its ghostly blue eyes, wearing an expression of almost self-satisfaction, and dips its head slowly. "Awh-dree."

"How-?" I can't even begin to process this. This Corpse just talked. And not just that, but it said my name. How does it know my name? I glance over the face, but it's unfamiliar. Not some lingering memory from before being turned then. Of course not, that's impossible. But then so is talking Corpses and I just saw that happen so...

The Corpse looks around, and its brow furrows ever so slightly before it turns back to me. I cringe as it sticks two fingers into the gaping bullet wound in its shoulder and pulls it out covered in the stagnant, muddy blood of a Corpse. It reaches for me, and I can't stop myself from flinching away with a whimper. Here it comes. It's going to grab me, hold me in place as it bites in. The Corpse places its hand along the side of my face, dragging its fingers down in a sick imitation of an intimate gesture. I feel the thick, slimy blood smearing down my skin as it does, sticking to my cheek and jaw and neck. The Corpse leans in and sniffs deeply and then sits back on its haunches without so much as touching me.

What the hell is going on here? Why is it drawing this out? I would think it was some twisted, psychological torture except Corpses aren't capable of thinking. So what is this one doing then? It is staring at me with those foggy blue eyes, head tipped just a bit to the left, and beneath the gore and pale skin and scars it almost looks - compassionate.

The Corpse suddenly looks around again as the others start moving and frowns. It stares straight into my eyes - when did Corpses learn to maintain eye contact? - and speaks again. "C-come." Before I even have time to consider what this means, it takes my wrist and tries to tug me up with it. I dig my heels in, but all that accomplishes is that the Corpse drags me behind it like a doll. Corpses may look thin and emaciated, but they are deceptively strong, and this one is no exception.

After sliding gracelessly along the dirty floor for a few feet, I finally get my legs underneath me and manage to stand. The Corpse hasn't broken its stride the entire time, shuffling dutifully across the room after the others.

We're out of the hospital before it occurs to me just what is going on. It's taking me with it, back to wherever this pack of Corpses came from. It's going to take me home, and I'm going to be the fresh meat they store away until they get hungry again. I might even be their snack, the thing they take the occasional bite or two from to kerb cravings. Is it going to be all of them or just this one? Either way, it's going to be a slow, miserable, painful death. My legs shake beneath me, threatening to collapse, and I can't stop the sob that bubbles out of me.

The pack of Corpses shambles on in silence apart from sporadic groans and scuffing of feet all through the night. I try several times to get away, but I can't break the Corpse's grip on my wrist, and eventually, I'm too tired to try anymore. My muscles ache, especially my legs, from the miles we've covered as we travel down the empty highway. I shake from fear and hunger and exhaustion, and my eyes burn from the tears that I can't control.

Just as the sun is coming up, we reach a town, the sort of place that might have once been a charming colonial village but is now a dirty, ghostly remnant of the millions of lives lost. The Corpses are beginning to branch off and go in different directions like they have places to be. Weird, I always thought they stayed in their hunting groups for the most part, that they had formed packs like other predatory animals.

Does this mean I'm destined to be a meal for just the one Corpse? Will it just steadily snack on me until I finally bleed out or die of infection and come back as one of them? The idea is horrific, and I make one more bid for freedom with a squeak of, "please." The Corpse turns back to me, its eyes wide with - fear? No, Corpses don't feel fear. It holds a finger up to its lips in a childish gesture for quiet, a motion so human I falter in surprise. The Corpse continues to walk me around the back of a building, the chipped paint on the front window declaring it "Faerie Tale Books." It opens the back door and drags me inside, and then closes the door with a distinctive click.

As soon as the Corpse releases me, I put as much space between us as I can. I press myself back against the wall and return to my defensive foetal position. The adrenaline is starting to ebb and exhaustion has kicked in with a vengeance, and all I can do is curl up and shake, waiting for the inevitable. I watch the Corpse, wanting some warning of when the pain will come, but it doesn't move. It stays in its spot by the door and stares back at me with that unblinking, blue-eyed stare.

"Awh-dree," it stutters out, but I don't move. I can't. "No..." It crudely mimes biting, pieces of flesh still in its bloody teeth and I cringe away. "Eat." There's something different about this Corpse. This must be some new evolution in them, the ability to speak and emulate, even if it's awkward and poor. They must be changing to become better killers. If I take my eyes off it for a second, it might attack. It cocks its head to the side and lowers its voice as it says, "S-safe."

Then, to my utmost surprise, it turns around and walks back out the way it came, leaving me alone in the empty building. I stare at the closed door in confusion. Did it really just leave? Legs shaking, I stand and peer out of the nearest window, but I can't see the Corpse. Does it expect me to just stay here and wait to be eaten later?

I cross to the door and yank it open, ready to run, but freeze. There is a different Corpse on the other side of the wide alleyway, and it looks up at the sound of the door. Panicked, I snap the door shut and plant my back against it. It's not safe to run, not yet. There's no way I'd even make it out of town, let alone all the way back to the Compound. The truth rings in my head again.

_Trapped...trapped...trapped..._

I retreat to the corner, curl in on myself, and give in to the hopelessness and tears.


	5. Chapter Five

**N**

I must be insane. That's the only explanation for what I'm doing. What am I thinking? I brought home a Living. Brought a Living into a town full of Corpses. None of the others would be so stupid. I don’t know what got into me. I just - I couldn’t leave her there without knowing why. Seeing her made me feel, completely on my own, for the first time since I woke up like this. I have to figure this out. I have to know what makes her so special.

I slip away from the group without saying goodbye to Gr, not wanting to bring any attention to the fact that I’ve got a companion. We’ve been remarkably lucky so far, no reason to push that luck over the edge of the cliff. I find myself hoping that Audrey doesn’t try to pull anything. I don’t want to hurt her but I can’t let her try and run here. She wouldn’t make it a half-mile before the others realised she's alive. We can run when we want, but you can definitely tell the difference between the gait of a Living and a Corpse. Living don’t run like drunk people with feet that have fallen asleep.

Also, there’s part of me that thinks she’s probably more than capable of kicking my ass if she got it in her mind.

We’re nearly to my house when Audrey tries to tug her arm away again and murmurs a desperate, “Please.” I turn and press a finger to my lips for silence, shooting a significant look at the pair of Corpses on the other side of the road. She looks frightened by my reaction but she presses her lips together, which I take as acquiesce, so I start walking again. I open the door to the shop and pull her in behind me, despite her physical protests, and then shut the door behind us firmly.

As soon as I let go of her wrist, Audrey hugs her arm to her chest and staggers backward away from me. She cowers in the corner, her wide eyes fixed on me. Now that I’m finally looking at her properly, I can see that she’s been crying. There are salty tracks dried on her cheeks and her eyes are bloodshot and swollen. I cringe slightly and look around for some way to make it better. I step forward and Audrey cowers, curling in on herself.

“Awh-dree,” I say. “No...” I struggle to figure out the right word to say it and mime chewing, “...eat.” She whimpers. “S-safe.” I get no reaction from her apart from her sobbing again.

I may not be the best at figuring out emotions and feelings and such, but even I can tell when it’s time to give someone some space. So I slowly turn and shuffle out of the building, leaving her to collect herself. I will figure out what exactly the hell I’m supposed to do now, and then I’ll come check on her again. But for now it’s clear she needs some time to be alone and that’s something even I can give her.

I leave the store, knowing she won’t go anywhere, but I don’t go far. Just in case she has no self-preservation. I round the corner of the alley to where an old blue truck is parked. It’s one of those places where I like to hang out when I need to get away from the the house. I don’t think the truck is actually functional anymore, and the windscreen is missing, but there is something liberating about sitting behind the wheel.

I settle into the bench seat and stare at the wooden fence in front of the truck thoughtfully. There’s more I need to know about Audrey, to figure out who she is and why she makes me react and feel. Eating her boyfriend’s brains is probably not the best method, but it’s the quickest one I’ve got. Reaching into my pocket, I scrape out a handful of gray matter and put it in my mouth.

_..."So Chris, you're working in agriculture?" The older man, Vince Teagues, has a heavily lined face and his eyebrow arches into an unnaturally high curve as he glances across the desk at you._

_"It was the best fit for me, sir." You shuffle where you stand, staring uncertainly at the way your boots ruffle the worn rug. Dusty black on maroon like dried blood. "I was studying horticulture before this; marine, really, but it's same general ideas. It seemed like the best way to help."_

_"You ever thought about working in patrol?" Vince asks. "That was a good catch you made, spotting that weakness in the wall a few weeks back. We could use sharp eyes like yours on the defences."_

_"Don't let him bully you, Chris." You look over your shoulder to the sound of the voice you've grown so fond of in the last few weeks. Audrey is standing in the doorway, in so tight jeans and a violet top that makes the colour in her cheeks bolder. Brighter. "He just thinks that the only valuable thing we can do is to build bigger walls and bigger guns and somehow fight this thing to death."_

_"Without that wall and those guns, we'd all be dead now," Vince reminds her, the frustration in his voice showing that this is an argument they've had before. "You wouldn't have survived much longer on your own; you and Duke would've died."_

_"That doesn't mean there aren't other things that are just as important," Audrey says fervently. "Like keeping all these people healthy and alive, and looking for a cure for all of those people out there."_

_"The only cure for those things out there is a bullet in their heads," Vince says darkly._

_Audrey frowns at him for a moment and then turns her attention to you. "C'mon Chris, you ready?" You nod, eager to be out of the awkward situation, and take the hand she extends to you. As you're walking out of the manor she adds, "Don't mind him, he's just touchy today. It's Dave's birthday."_

_Your mind fills with images of the younger Teagues brother, with his semi-circle of white hair and thick glasses, his tatty sweater vest and short stature that still somehow managed to convey power. You met him a few times and you liked him. Vince used to be nicer back then too, but you suppose putting a bullet in your brother's brain when he turns into a flesh-eating monster will change anyone..._

_...”C’mon, hurry up,” she says, tugging your hand. “This is the only way out of the Compound without passing guards.” She pulls you through the back walkway and to a section of wall made of sheeted steel bolted into place. She pulls back a piece of corrugated metal to reveal a hidden path, a narrow tunnel that winds through the interior of the wall._

_She looks back at you and smiles. “Don’t be a chicken,” she teases. “You want to see your dad, and this is the only way.”_

_You hesitate, your heart racing, but you nod and slip into the passage. She follows and then takes your hand and leads the way. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” you say. “Just us alone outside the wall with nothing but two 9mm.”_

_“This way is deserted,” she says confidently. “I’ve been through a few times and it’s fine. Besides, you haven’t heard from your dad in a week. This way comes out not far from the electrical warehouse.”_

_You nod reluctantly and let her lead the way. Tunnel full of debris... half-flooded sewer that smells of dank... vacant football field littered with the remains of squatter camps... staircase where Audrey slides down the banister with a laugh that makes you smile... then finally you're in the open air, on the edge of a field of dry, overgrown grasses._

_“That’s it there,” she says and points at the large warehouse, thick black power lines strung from the building all the way up to the walls of Haven; one of three sources for all of the power used in the compound. Audrey’s fingers are woven in yours as you walk across the open expanse to the warehouse._

_At the front door, Audrey points and you find the familiar figure, the back of the head toward you but unmistakable. Relief washes over you like cool water soothing a burn. You push the door open and step inside. “Dad!”_

_You walk a few feet in and frown when the smell hits you. It’s not the usual smell, the stifling heat of moving bodies and the sharpness of electricity, the muffled thickness of rubber and wires. No, the smell is a sickening sweet, cloying scent. The smell that clings to the areas infected by the dead._

_"Chris, wait," Audrey hisses and jogs up behind you._

_At that moment, the figures that are dotting the warehouse floor all turn to look at you. You can't take your eyes off your dad though and you stare straight into his bleached eyes. "No," you breathe, feeling your heart drop into your stomach._

_"Chris." Audrey grabs your elbow and starts to tug you back, but your feet are rooted to the floor. Not your dad. He's all the family you have left since Mom died when you were a kid. And now he's gone, dead but not dead. "Chris, we've got to go."_

_Dad tilts his head, staring at you with interest, and then suddenly he bares his teeth and growls. He charges at you, the other Corpses not far behind, and you are finally scared into action. You stumble backwards several steps, trying to get your feet to function properly while Audrey pulls your arm so hard it nearly sends you sprawling. The snarls of the Corpses are getting closer with every second and the door to the warehouse seems so far away._

_You trip over a cord and roll to an awkward stop on the dirty ground. You flip onto your back and stare up in horror as your father closes in on you, blood-stained teeth bared and prepared to sink into you._

_And then he recoils, his head snapping backward in time with the explosive crack of a gunshot from above your head. Audrey lowers her gun and grabs your arm, helping you up, and you both race the last few yards to the door. You stumble through and slam the door shut behind you, and Audrey wedges a broken pole through the doorhandle. "C'mon," she says, taking your hand and setting off again._

_You don't even realise you're crying until she meets your gaze and her terror morphs into pity and regret. "I'm so sorry." You brush away the apology and keep running. What's done is done. Now all you need to focus on is getting Audrey back to safety..._

_...You feel adrenaline pulsing through your veins, rushing through that hollow space in your chest that you've felt ever since that day at the warehouse. It feels good to finally feel like you're doing something. Anything to stop any more people from having to go through what you did. Determination. Patriotism. Resignation._

_"You sure about this?" Vince fixes you in that gaze, the one that's so severe and so much older and more exhausted than he appears._

_"Yes, sir," you respond firmly._

_Vince nods and puts a hand on your shoulder. "Welcome to the Guard, son." He glances over his shoulder at a soldier and nods to him. "Get him a gun and show him how to handle it."_

_As the enormous soldier steps up to show you how to use the military-grade rifle, you look down the line to where Audrey is standing. She meets your eyes, and there's nothing but sadness there..._

I swallow the pulverised gray matter and settle back against the bench, musing on what I’ve just seen. It’s no wonder she’s afraid of me, with all she’s been through. She lost this Dave, this man who seemed to have been close to her, to Corpses, and then had to shoot her boyfriend’s father in the head. Then I ate her boyfriend, although I’m not sure she realises that just yet. I guess I can’t really blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.

Clearly, I need a different approach in getting through to her.

Wiping my hand off on my trouser leg, I climb down out of the truck and make my way back to my house. There’s another Corpse hanging around the back door curiously but I snarl at him as I walk up and he wanders off, getting the point. That’s one thing that is nice about Corpses; we all understand the rights of territory and don’t mess with other people’s things.

I let myself into the store and look around once the door is shut firmly behind me. I spot Audrey curled up on herself in a corner. She’s got some sort of sharp, metal object in her hands, holding it in front of her defensively, and she watches me suspiciously. I take a step toward her and she lifts up the object - it turns out to be a screwdriver - and brandishes it at me threateningly. I hesitate and then step back, getting her point.

Turning around, I head over to the heap of blankets that I tripped over last night. I shove aside the top two because they're dirty and blood-spattered, but underneath them is a thick quilt in lovely blues that's decently clean and I pick it up. I walk carefully back over to her and hold out the blanket. She eyes me distrustfully but she doesn't make any move to shank me so that's something. I shake out the blanket and then lay it over her folded legs and tuck it behind her shoulders. She whimpers and flinches when my skin touches hers, closing her eyes and turning her head away. She looks so resigned, so hopeless.

God, she thinks I'm going to hurt her.

I already told her once before that she's safe here, that I won't hurt her. I mean, I know I'm a Corpse, but you can still take me for my word.

Taking several deliberate steps back, I wait for her to look at me again. "S-safe," I say. "N-not, hu-urt. K-keep you s-safe."

"Why me?" she asks, her voice a bit hysterical as a tear rolls across her cheek. "Why did you save me?"

Isn't that the question of the year? I shrug because that's all the answer I have. I don't know why I saved her, what it is that makes her so special, I just know that she is. And that I want her to stop being so sad. "D-don't, c-c-cry," I try weakly.

Audrey sobs and closes her eyes again. This isn't working. I need to find some other way to communicate with her, to assure her that I don't want to hurt her. I just want to understand her. I just want to know why I feel a connection to another thing for the first time since I died.

So I use the only other thing I feel connected to.

Shuffling across the room, I take the current vinyl off the record player and tuck it back onto the shelf. I fumble through them until I find one I wanted, the one that sounds like sadness. Audrey is sad, but maybe if she feels it with the music it will go away. Mostly I just want her to know that I know she's sad. I understand, as much as I can. Pulling out the vinyl, I set it on the player and settle the needle into the start.

The music is slow and lush, full of so many different instruments, but it's the voice I like. The woman's voice is - soothing. I sit down in my little nest, where I'm close to the music but I can still see Audrey, and I let the music wash through the room. I close my eyes and sway in tempo with the music, trying to show her that I - well not that I _feel_ it, but that I know that it _should_ feel. I wait patiently, not wanting to startle her, and after a while I get lost in the music. The track changes from one song to another, a sweeter, higher song.

"What _are_ you?"

I open my eyes, surprised by Audrey's question, and find her staring at me in rapt fascination. What am I? What kind of question is that? I mean, I'm a Corpse. I know I'm a little different than the others but that doesn't change what I am. I don't think so anyway. Maybe I'm not a Corpse. At least not an ordinary Corpse. After all I did just bring home a Living, and that's not exactly a normal Corpse thing to do.

Lost for an answer, I shrug and settle further down into my nest.

 


	6. Chapter Six

**DUKE**

My first thought as I crawl towards consciousness is,  _fuck I hurt_. Every inch of me aches like I was beaten with a baseball bat and my head is pounding. I want nothing more than to curl up and go back to sleep until I stop hurting.

Then my memories come filtering back, and my eyes snap open. The last thing I remember is being thrown across the room by a massive Corpse, and then I collided with something, and everything went black. I sit up and survey the room, trying not to gag at the thick stench of death hanging around me.

The enormous Corpse that attacked me is lying in a heap beside me, a small puddle of sludgy brown blood beneath its head. As I stand up, I can see that the room is littered with bodies, some the dull grey of Corpses and the rest mangled mounds of flesh that used to be humans. The copper and meat smell of gore makes it difficult to keep my stomach from rebelling, and I put a hand over my nose to filter the scent.

My first instinct is to check the room for survivors of either side. The moment I'm sure that no one else is alive - or undead - in the room, I check myself over for injuries. If I was bitten, I may as well pick up one of the abandoned guns and end it all right now. I won't come back as one of those things. To my surprise, even though I'm covered in blood, it appears that none of it is mine. The only injury I have is a gash on the back of my head from where I hit the shelf, but the majority of the blood on me is a dark muddy brown. It must've spattered on me when someone shot the Corpse that attacked me.

I have no idea how I'm still alive, but it's nothing short of a miracle. How did I survive when everyone else is-

"Audrey," I say, a sudden franticness sweeping over me. I dodge around shelves to the last place I saw my best friend. There are spots of blood, both brown and red, but there's no body. I immediately begin scanning every inch of the room, scrutinising every body for some sign of Audrey. I find what I think is Stan, the quiet wall guard. There's Evie - we dated for a while last year, and her death hurts me. On the other side of the room, I find Chris Brody, one of his arms mauled and the back of his head bashed open. As much of a bastard as the guy was, I feel bad that he's dead.

Although I check every body in the room, none of them is Audrey. I allow a moment of hope to swell in me. Perhaps she escaped. Maybe she survived somehow and, thinking she was the only one living, she made a run for home. Maybe she's back in Haven right now, safe and sound.

Of course, it stings a little that she left me behind.

I grab one of the backpacks and load it full of weapons that I pick up from among the dead. I tuck handguns and knives into my belt and boots, defending myself as well as I can. Then I grab a roll of gauze and wrap it around my pounding head to staunch the steady drip of blood from the back of my skull. Content that I'm as well off as I'll get, I make one last circuit of the room just in case I missed Audrey under some table or something, and then I leave.

It's nearly dark out now - I must've been out for quite a while - and I skirt carefully through the hospital, more than a little bit paranoid. On the ground floor, I run into a stray Corpse, and I take it out with a knife to avoid making more noise than I have to. The last thing I want is to attract more. Odds are I won't make it back to Haven alive anyway, but that's no reason to make it harder on myself.

When I slip out of the back of the hospital, my eyes are instantly drawn to the van we arrived in, which is still parked near the doors. I frown. If Audrey survived, wouldn't she have taken it? I jog over and peer inside, checking for Corpses or to see if maybe she's hiding inside. It's empty except for a water bottle and a few blankets.

"Audrey, where are you?" I wonder aloud. If she's dead... My chest seizes at the very thought, and I have to brace myself against the side of the van as my knees threaten to buckle beneath me.

There's nothing for it. I climb into the driver's side of the van and am grateful to see that the keys are still in the ignition. I can only hope that Audrey found another way home because the idea of her being dead is too much to bear. She's my best friend, the closest thing I have ever had to family. A hell of a lot closer than my real family, for sure. I send out one last prayer for her safety and then shift the van into drive and set off into the darkness.

It's a long, quiet, lonely drive north toward the Haven Compound. I drive slowly and keep an eye out for movement as I travel, but the only figures that I spot are Corpses that stumble toward the van before I move on. My heart has settled into a painful, dull ache by the time that the Compound walls appear on the horizon at sunrise. Please, please let her be in there.

I pull up in front of the garage doors and am stopped by the hulking beast of a guard who comes through the doors. I see him squint through the windscreen and he frowns, approaching the window. "Dwight, did Audrey make it back?" I ask before he can say anything.

"Isn't she with you?" he responds uneasily. "Where is everyone else?"

Panic seizes hold of my chest, and I can't fight back a wave of nausea. Throwing the van door open, I lean out and vomit onto the dirt path. I feel a heavy hand land on my back, but all I can think about is Audrey. She's gone. Gone. She didn't make it back. She's gone. I'm alone. She's dead. Dead.

"Audrey," I moan through bile-coated lips, and then the ground comes rushing up to meet me as everything in me gives out.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**AUDREY**

I come to slowly, the exhaustion still pulling down heavily on my eyelids. It's the feeling of being watched that finally forces me to open my eyes. I find myself staring straight into a pair of blue-gray eyes and I startle in surprise. Across the room, the Corpse twitches slightly and looks away a bit too obviously, as if it's trying to hide the fact that it was staring. The action is so juvenile and stunningly human that it puts me off guard.

There's something so different about this Corpse, and it scares me as much as it fascinates me.

"I want to go home," I say pitifully, half to myself and half to it. I miss home and Duke and Chris. I don't know if either of them are alive, if either of them made it home. I just want this whole thing to be over.

The Corpse - which I've started calling Cheekbones in my head due to its killer facial structure - sits up straighter and shakes its head. Pointing at the window, it chokes out, "N-not s-ss-afe."

"You keep saying that," I spit out angrily. Cheekbones stares back at me like a kicked puppy, dipping its head uncertainly and shrugging. God, it doesn't even speak in full sentences and it's more emotive than most humans I know. Sighing, I drag a hand back through my tangled hair and then pull the blanket more snugly around my shoulders. It smells musty and dank, but it's warm and soft enough.

"Well I'm hungry," I say finally. Cheekbones' eyes widen and it tilts its head to the side like the subject confuses it. "I'm hungry. If you're going to make me stay here, I need to eat. And real food, not your food."

Cheekbones nods and shuffles awkwardly to the door. In the frame, it pivots around and lifts a finger, pointing at me determinedly. "St-stay," it says and points at the ground in front of me again. "S-safe." It gives me one more pointed look and then turns and leaves, closing the door firmly behind it.

The moment Cheekbones is gone, I stand up and bolt to the window. I watch as it shambles off around the edge of the building and toward the road. From here, I can see it crossing the road through the half-blocked front window. It's gone. If I'm making a break for it, now's the time.

I pick up the long-handled screwdriver I'd found yesterday and tuck it into my belt loop. It'll make a good weapon if I run into any Corpses. I open the door carefully, peering through the crack, but I don't see any Corpses. Slipping out, I inch around the edge of the building and along the alley.

The main road is going to be dangerous and more exposed, but it'll be the easiest way to get out of town. I can follow the road back to the highway, and the highway all the way back to the other city. If I'm lucky I'll find a car somewhere along the way and I can drive it at least part of the way. Even if I don't make it back to the Compound, I've got to try. I can't just stay here and wait to be eaten by some insane, doe-eyed Corpse.

I sprint down two blocks of the narrow path behind the shops, waiting for some other way to get back to the main road but there's no other alleys branching off. Ahead, the path curves and then opens up into an enormous park circle. There are a handful of Corpses staggering around on the dried grass. "Shit," I hiss, pulling out the screwdriver and adjusting my grip on it.

To the left I can see the road I need to get back to the main street, but there's two Corpses between me and there. If I'm quick and quiet, I can duck behind that bench. Staying low to the ground, I race forward to the upturned bench, sliding to a stop behind it. I press myself low to the ground and peek through one of the holes in the bench, checking to see if I've been noticed. Nothing. Grinning triumphantly, I dodge sideways to the shelter of a crashed car.

I prop myself up to look through one of the missing windows. A Corpse is turning my direction, its head lifted. It sniffs the air deliberately and then its head cocks to the side like an eager bird. My heart plummets; it's caught my scent. If it had just heard me, I might've been able to sneak away, but once a Corpse has your scent...

The Corpse moans loudly and after a few minutes there were two responding groans. I tip my head to look again and see that there are several more Corpses joining the first. Damn it. The three of them start to shuffle toward my hiding place and I feel my heart pounding. There's got to be some place to go, somewhere I can run to. I could maybe take down three Corpses on my own but I'd have to be lucky and so far that's not been in my cards.

I'm just considering making a break for the road and taking my chances when a hand lands on my shoulder. I yelp in alarm as the hand turns me around and there's a flash of pale skin and foggy eyes.

Foggy blue eyes wide with panic.  _Cheekbones._

It glares at me like I'm a child that's done something wrong. "I s-said, not s-s-afe," it hisses under its breath, kneeling close to me to share my shelter.

"I know but-" I start but Cheekbones puts a finger to its lips. It rises up on its knees and looks around, its brow furrowed. It crouches back beside me again, dipping its fingers into the deep cut left behind from where I threw the knife at it yesterday. This time it looks at me and its hand hovers in front of my face, hesitating like it's waiting for my permission. I nod slightly and it immediately smears the brown sludge down the side of my face and neck.

"C-come," it says and offers me a hand as it stands up. I stand up uncertainly, drawing close to its side for protection. The other Corpses fixate on us immediately. Cheekbones starts walking and leans toward me. "Be, d-dead."

"What?" I ask in surprise. Cheekbones lifts its arms and staggers forward with an overly-loud groan. "Oh, right." I copy its movements, lifting my arms in front of me and moaning. I shuffle my feet, twisting my weight more onto one leg than the other, and growl.

Cheekbones pauses and looks at me, one eyebrow lifted (I didn't even know Corpses can  _move_  their eyebrows!). "T-too much."

Blushing, I tone back the groaning and shuffle in its shadow. Two of the other Corpses follow us at a distance, the third losing interest. Cheekbones leads the way back down the alley and then lets us into his little shop, shutting the door promptly behind me. "I t-told you not s-s-safe," it says and it almost sounds scared.

"I know but - I can't stay here," I say desperately. "I wanna go home."

Cheekbones looks at the door and shakes its head. "N-not safe."

I sigh in frustration, slumping back against the wall and crossing my arms. "Fine, but I really am hungry," I say in defeat. "I haven't eaten in like two days."

Cheekbones scrutinizes me for a minute and then he nods. "'K-kay."

* * *

**N**

In the end, I don't trust her not to rabbit on me again, so I bring her with me. Her playing-dead is barely passable and a bit too dramatic, but she doesn't attract too much attention as we head to the building across the street. I guess it must've been some kind of grocer's because it's full of shelves lined with cans and the stench of rotting food. The place has obviously been ransacked a time or two before, but there are enough things left behind to keep Audrey entertained.

I follow behind her as she wanders up and down the shelves, occasionally humming in excitement as she piles a can into the cheap plastic basket she picked up near the door. I have no idea what she is finding that makes her so happy, but she's enjoying it so I let her at it. Perhaps she'll explain it to me when we get back to the house.

A groan from the back of the store makes me pause and I grab her arm. "T-time to go," I say and tug her in the direction of the broken front of the grocer's. She carries her basket with her as we make our way back across to my bookshop house. The moment we're inside, she sits down in her corner and pulls out one of the cans. She jams the screwdriver she's been hefting around with her through the tin and wedges the top off.

"Mmm, peaches," she says eagerly, picking out a wiggly orange thing and popping it into her mouth. "God, I haven't eaten peaches in forever. We don't grow them in the Compound." I stand in front of her, watching her curiously. It's interesting to watch a human eat. It's less gory than when a Corpse eats, for sure, and she makes such enthusiastic faces. The peaches she's eating don't look very tasty though, wiggly, squishy little things. Peaches. I don't remember what peaches were like. I wonder if I liked them Before.

Audrey looks up at me and I turn, trying to pretend that I wasn't watching her devour an entire can of peaches with zeal. I think it makes her uncomfortable when I watch her. Is it weird that I like to watch her? Am I weird? That's probably a stupid question. Of course I'm weird. I'm a Corpse with a living roommate.

I try to think if I have any food in here. I wander over to the desk where my record player sits and I look around behind the desk. There's a huge cooler that's been there since I moved into the place, and if I remember right... I open the top and look in at the collection of bottles that are lying in a heap. I grab one that isn't broken and carry it back, offering it out to her hopefully.

"Oh, wow," she says and takes the bottle. She twists it to examine the faded label on the front of the brown glass. " _Moose Head_. Never heard of this brand, must be a local brew." She pops the top off with the screwdriver and takes a long sip. "Mmm, not bad though. Wow, I can't even remember the last time I had a beer. Probably before I made it to the Compound."

She cracks open another can of the squishy, wet fruit and settles it down next to the bottle of beer. Glancing up at me, she smiles a bit exasperatedly. "You can sit down, you know." I grunt and sit down opposite her, leaning my back against the end of one of the shelving units. She tilts her head and looks at me. "You know, you're not all that bad, Cheekbones."

I frown. Cheekbones? Is that what she calls me? I lift a hand and run it along my left cheek. Yeah, okay, so I suppose I have prominent cheekbones, but really? That's hardly a name, even for a Corpse. That's not even a good name for a pet. "I h-have, a na-ame," I tell her indignantly.

Audrey's eyes widen. "Really? You have a name? What is it?"

Shit, I clearly didn't think this all the way through. Right, I have a name but I don't remember it. That's a bit of a problem. Well, nothing for it. I'll just have to jump in and pray that it comes to me. "Nnnn..." Damn it, not cool. "Nnnnn..."

"Nnn?" Audrey echoes questioningly. "So, does your name start with N then?" Oh thank god, she got it. "Uhm, Nick?" I frown. "Norman? Maybe, Noah? Neil?" Yeah, definitely not any of those. Jesus, this is not going well. I kind of want to die all over again. "Look, why don't I just call you N then?"

I feel the corner of my lips pull up. Holy crap, I'm smiling. Right? That's what this is. Corpses don't smile, but I'm smiling. Because having N for a name is better than nothing. And better than Cheekbones, as flattering as that was. I mean, I think it was supposed to be flattering. But I have a name now, a name we picked together. "Ehnn," I say, trying it out. "N." I nod. N will do.

"Good," she says and her smile fades. "N, I wanna go home."

No! No, she can't go home. She can't leave me. "N-not safe."

"I know, that's what you keep saying," she says in frustration. "But it's never going to be safe for me here, N. Not this deep into the Dead Zone." The Dead Zone? Is that what they call our cities? Well it's not totally inaccurate I suppose. I mean we're undead, technically, but it works. "I need to go home, that's the only place I'll be safe. And you brought me here, so I know you can get me out again."

Damn it, she has a point. I can keep her safe here, but for how long? After a while, the others will inevitably catch her scent. If they smell her in here, all unwritten rules of not touching each others' stuff will go straight out the window. And I can fight off a couple Corpses but if they all come at once, we're both screwed.

But she can't leave yet. I need time. Time to figure out just what it is about her that's so special. That makes me almost feel. I need to make her stay for a couple days more at least. "F-few days," I say. "Th-they forg-get. Then you c-can go." Wow, not bad. Those were almost like sentences.

"Few days, huh?" she asks, staring at me shrewdly. I nod, trying to keep up a poker face. She has to stay, just a bit longer. "Okay, a few days," she agrees. "I will stay for a few days. But after that you have to let me go home."

"I-I'll, take you," I agree. I have to help her, make sure that she makes it all the way home. That's the only way she stands a chance, and I have to know that she's okay. I can't live with myself otherwise. "Deal?" I hold out my hand.

Audrey surveys it for a second and then slips her hand into mine. It feels warm, almost hot against my cool skin, and for a minute all I can do is marvel at the fact that I can feel that. I can tell the difference in the temperature. Corpses don't feel temperature. Corpses don't feel anything. But I feel her. And then she squeezes my hand before pulling it away, and the moment is broken.

"Deal," she says. "So... What exactly is a girl supposed to do around here for a couple days?"


	8. Chapter Eight

**AUDREY**

It turns out that N is not bad at keeping me entertained. This comes mainly from its severe hoarding issues. I mean there is literally  _everything_  inside this little shop. I could probably pass almost the entire few days here just by examining every item on the worse-for-wear shelves. As it is, I have already spent most of the first day doing exactly that.

"You have a lot of stuff," I comment. I pause as I spot something stuck into the back of the shelf and I pull it out, careful not to knock down the set of champagne flutes or the piece of a tarnished gold chess set in front of it. It's a small, leather-bound book, the surname 'Brauer' stamped on the front in flaking, gold script. "Like, a lot."

N has been following me at a distance all day, five steps behind me at all times but trying not to look like it's tailing me. The whole thing is kind of cute, in an innocent puppy sort of way. "I c-collect," it says, picking up a porcelain doll. The face has been half-broken off and it's missing an arm, but N cradles it in its hands like it's the most precious thing on earth. "I l-like stuff."

"I can see that," I say with a smile. I flip open the book I found and my eyes widen. It's a photo album. Some of the pages are torn or water damaged, and the bottom corner and edge are stained an ominous maroon, but several of the pictures are still intact. Most of them are of two people: an auburn-haired woman with a lean face and a man with a hard jaw and sandy hair. There are photographs of him in an army uniform, of her in front of a cute little antique shop, of the both of them at their wedding, and later standing in front of a tiny cottage house on the hill. "Oh wow, these are amazing."

N wanders closer to peer over my shoulder and it narrows its eyes as it scrutinises the photographs. I continue to turn pages slowly, looking at each little glimpse into the lives of this couple. It feels like a storybook, like a children's tale full of pictures, but it strikes me that these are real people. People who are out there somewhere, who were alive once. Maybe still are. "I wonder what happened to them," I muse aloud.

"C-corpse," N says and pokes at the photograph of the man.

"How do you know?" I ask in surprise.

N looks down at the porcelain doll and its lips pull down at the corners. "See h-him, 'round," it says and gestures vaguely at the window.

"You recognise him?" I ask curiously.

"H-hangs out up r-r-road," it says. "N-not fruh-end." It bares its teeth and hisses and then shakes its head.

"I didn't realise there are friendly Corpses," I say with a faint laugh. I glance up and N is honest-to-God pouting, its lower lip sticking out slightly and its eyes downcast. "I mean apart from you, obviously. You're - different. You're not like all the others."

"M... 'm weird," N says with a shrug.

I laugh, closing the photo album and putting it back where I found it. "That you are, my friend," I agree in amusement. N doesn't seem offended by that and as I set off down along the shelf again, it continues to follow me. "So why do you keep all this stuff? I mean, judging by the dust, you don't exactly use it."

N shrugs. I glance up at it expectantly and it shrugs again before finally answering. "Keep s-safe," it says finally.

"Like you keep me safe?" I ask curiously, giving up on my search for a minute. This is more interesting.

"I t-try," N says with the faintest hint of a smile playing around its lips.

The comment catches me so off-guard I can't help but break out in giggles. "Look at you, making jokes," I tease to cover my awe. "A Corpse with a sense of humour. That's a new one." Shaking my head, I turn around and go back to browsing the shelves again until it gets dark out and I can't see well enough to keep going.

I walk back over to the little area I've set up for myself in the corner. I sit down and rummage through the stack of cans in the half-light, trying to decide what to have for dinner, and finally settle on a can of fruit cocktail. Just as I've opened the can, N brings me another bottle of the local brew beer and I smile gratefully as I pop the cap off.

While I'm eating, N wanders over to the large desk in the front of the shop and puts a new vinyl on the record player. It crackles and then a familiar strain comes out and I can't help but beam. "Guns and Roses," I say in approval. "Very nice choice."

N smiles - it doesn't smile so much with its mouth, but with a spark in its eyes and the way it carries its head a little higher. "G-guns 'n r-r-roses," it echoes.

"It's the name of the band," I explain, pinching a bright red cherry between my fingers and popping it into my mouth. "They're great. I used to listen to them all the time, but I could only do it at school. The nuns didn't like rock music. Devil's music, they called it." I huff and shrug. "A bit stupid in hindsight, thinking music was going to ruin us and now we're in the middle of all this."

N shuffles over and sits down in front of me, its eyes wide and curious. "N-nuns?"

"They're church ladies," I say. "Women who devoted their lives to serving God and all that. I grew up in an orphanage run by nuns. They were super strict. I used to get into trouble all the time, just stupid things like listening to music I shouldn't or bringing home candy from school. Stuff like that." I look up at N, who is watching me with the Corpse equivalent of rapt fascination. "Do you remember anything from before you became a Corpse? I mean, you remember part of your name, so I was just wondering..."

N shakes its head. "Just N." It pauses and glances at the record player, which has moved on to a soft ballad. "S-sometimes, m-m-music."

"You remember the music?" I ask in surprise. "Like the songs?"

"The sound," it says. "They f-f-feel, in here." It places a hand flat against its chest and closes its eyes. "Fam-mil-liar. And here - " it touches its forehead, "like, th-hh-here but I c-can't..."

"Like you can almost remember, but you can't," I finish. N opens its eyes and nods earnestly. "It's like a dream. You wake up and you can remember the feeling of it, but you can't quite remember what it was."

N shrugs. "D-don't dr-r-ream."

"Oh, right," I say, awkwardly toying with a bit of pear. "I forgot." Sometimes N acts so human, I forget it's a Corpse. There's a long, drawn-out silence as I finish off the can of fruit and when I finally look up again, N is still just watching me. It doesn't seem like my slip bothered it any.

When I don't start talking, N cocks its head to the side and says, "T-tell me 'bout you."

"About me?" I ask, shocked. "There's not much to say. I mean, what would you want to know? My middle name's Prudence, self-inflicted at my Confirmation. I didn't have my first kiss until I was eighteen. My favourite singer is Ray Charles." N narrows its eyes and I laugh at the almost suspicious look. "Okay, fine, it's Justin Timberlake."

"F-family?" N asks.

"Never had any," I admit, leaning back against the stack of pillows I nicked from around the shop - sleeping against the wall had not been comfortable and if I was sticking around for a few more days, I wanted somewhere softer to sleep. "I was at the orphanage from birth; no one ever came to claim me. I was in and out of foster homes, but I never stayed at one long and I hated them all. I kind of have an adopted family at the Compound - the city where I live. Haven, they call it, but I think that's stupid.

"Duke is my best friend and he's kind of like my brother, he's probably the person I'm closest to in the whole world. Then there's Vince. He and his brother took Duke and I in when we were half-dead, they saved us. But Dave died two years ago. He turned and Vince had to shoot him. He's been different since then. I guess I don't blame him. And then there's Chris; he's my boyfriend." I stop, faltering. "He died at the hospital, I think. I heard his scream and I never saw him come back up."

There's a question that's been nagging at the back of my mind since that moment and I finally get up the nerve to ask it. "N, if he did die, Chris, will he come back as one of you?" N shakes its head, blue-grey eyes wide. I feel a heavy weight settle in my stomach and I nod. "That's good, I guess. I mean, he wouldn't want it, he'd want to rest in peace, I think. I think maybe I was just hoping that he would, that he'd be like you. Not completely gone, you know?"

I sigh and lean back against the wall, folding my arms over my chest. I suddenly feel cold even though the temperature hasn't changed. "I think I always knew this moment would come, you know? That he would die someday. I mean we all will, eventually. He's just been so reckless since his dad died. I think I was almost expecting it. And it's not that I'm not sad he's gone, because I am. It's just - I think I've been preparing for it for a long time."

I can feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes and I hastily rub them away with the back of my wrist. When I've finished, I look up and N is gone. The music suddenly cuts out as N lifts the record off and puts it away. After a moment it pulls out a different one, mouths like it's blowing the dust off, and then puts it on the player. N nudges the needle several times until it seems to find the right song and then comes back over to sit down in front of me. It tilts its head at the record player and I take the hint, listening to the eighties song as it begins.

 _If I could find a way  
_ _To soothe your troubled mind  
_ _Then I would erase your fears  
_ _And help you to unwind.  
_ _I would ease the burden  
_ _That you carry every day.  
_ _Oh, don't you know I'd find a cure  
_ _And take your pain away._

I look up at N and find myself trapped in that intense stare. N places a hand on its chest, then reaches out and presses its palm over my heart. Somehow, without any words, N has expressed an emotion beyond anything I've ever heard a human say. And once again, I can't help but ask it.

"What  _are_  you?"

* * *

**N**

I wish she'd stop asking me that question. It makes me feel like even more of a freak than I already am. It's bad enough that I'm a flesh-eating monster, but it turns out I can't even do that right. I have to be the weird one. The one who doesn't do things the way he's supposed to.

What am I? I'm a Corpse, but a slightly defective one at that. I'm a collector - a hoarder, she called me. I'm a music lover. I'm lonely. So I shrug, because that's the only answer I have for her. I don't know exactly what I am.

Not to be too existential, but does  _anyone_  know who they are, really?

"You shrug a lot," Audrey says with a trace of amusement. I'm just glad that the sadness is gone from her face, that there are no longer pools of water brimming at the edge of her bottom lashes. "That's such a non-committal response. You may only speak in monosyllables, but would it kill you to at least try and give real answers?"

I shrug and Audrey lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Now you're just being an ass," she says, shaking her head. She sets aside her empty food can and the bottle, and then settles back into her little nest. I watch in interest as she adjusts the pillows around her and wraps the blanket around her shoulders.

"I-it's-s ha-ard," I admit. Audrey pauses and looks up, her brow pulling down in confusion. "T-to talk." I gesture limply at my uncooperative throat and shrug again. It's hard to explain to someone how something that seems so simple can be so difficult for me; that those muscles she uses without thinking have atrophied in me and it takes lots of effort to get them to even move in that way again.

"Oh," Audrey's eyes soften and she nods. "You're right, I'm sorry. I just - it's so fascinating to hear you talk. I didn't think Corpses could, you know? Apart from grunting and moaning and stuff. And you are getting better actually. Maybe you're just out of practice."

Am I getting better? I think about it and she's got a point. When I first met her, it was hard enough to say just her name and now I can speak in almost full sentences. "Mmmay-be," I agree, the corner of my lip twitching upward again.

Audrey smiles and wraps her blanket more tightly around herself. "Okay, well I'm going to get some sleep," she says.

I stand up, taking the hint, and rub my palms awkwardly against my jeans. "Go-oo-od night, Audrey."

She looks up and her grin is bright in the darkness. "Goodnight, N."


	9. Chapter Nine

**N**

Audrey makes a lot of noise in her sleep. They are just soft little whimpers and squeaks, but I don't like hearing them. I think it's because she's sad. She is hurting because her boyfriend is dead. God, if she finds out I'm the one who killed him...

I need to find something to make her feel better. Something to keep her mind off her boyfriend and to keep her here. Something interesting. I slump down in my nest of blankets. She's already looked at all of the greatest things I have in here. She even explained what a few of the things are; I honestly didn't know what a majority of the things on my shelves are, I just collected them because they looked interesting. Because they had been important to someone once, and they need to be preserved.

So what else do I know of that can keep her attention? Maybe there's something outside the shop that I can bring to her. I glance at her. She's curled up deep under her blanket, murmuring softly in her sleep. It's still early in the night so I've got plenty of time. All I know is I can't think with her sad little sounds, they make me uneasy. I think it's a feeling but I can't say which one. Besides, that's ridiculous; Corpses don't feel.

I stand up and walk to the door, stopping to check that my steps don't wake her before letting myself out. It's dark outside, but it's not difficult for me to see. One of the few perks of being a Corpse, I imagine. As far as I can tell, humans have a much harder time with the dark. The Boneys are out in full force tonight and I make an effort to give them a wide berth. God, they are so gross. And they all seem to be staring at me tonight. How do they even stare without eyes? I never really thought about that before. Weird.

I wander through all of the unoccupied buildings around my home, searching for anything new that might hold Audrey's attention for another few days. I find a few odd trinkets, a book with a rose on the cover, and a pair of sunglasses, but nothing all that fascinating. It's almost sun-up when I give up and go back to my house.

The door shuts harder than I mean it to and Audrey bolts awake with a startled noise. She blinks owlishly even as she sits up in a defensive position. "Oh, it's you," she says and relaxes. She yawns and pulls her blanket back up over her shoulders. "What were you doing?"

I set down the snow- globe I picked up from one of the buildings. "Collllecting," I say and begin emptying my new things from my pockets. I pull out a green bottle destined for the windowsill, and then an idea occurs to me. I hastily set down the bottle and then stand in the open space in the middle of the shop. "Awh-dree," I say and gesture for her to join me. "Come."

"What?" she asks, her tired face screwing up in confusion.

"Come," I say more insistently. Sunrise will be here any minute. I lay down on the floor and pat the spot beside me. "Come s-see."

"See what?" she asks, but she finally walks over. I give her a significant look – as pointed as I can with my half-functioning facial muscles anyway – and she lays down with a sigh. "Okay, what am I supposed to be seeing?"

I point at the ceiling and say, "W-watch."

We lay in the morning quiet, and as I wait for the sunrise I try to catalogue her presence for my memories. She breathes slowly; in through her mouth, out through her nose. Beneath the scent of human – flesh and blood and sweat – there is a subtle, softer smell. Floral and crisp. She smells like brightness and white and purple and  _life_. She smells like all the good things that are leaving this world; like the beautiful stuff I collect just to remember the world used to be good.

Mostly though, I focus on her hand. It's laying on the floor just centimetres from mine, but I can feel something. It's a tingling warmth in my knuckles and barely there, but it's magic. My skin is somehow aware of her proximity and reacting. I can  _feel_  something.

"N, what-?"

"Ssshh," I say, putting a finger to my lips and then pointing up again. Any second now...

The first rays of the sun creep over the horizon and into the window. They catch in the bits of coloured glass and fabric, bathing multicoloured light across the plaster ceiling. As the sun continues to inch upward, the lights change and shift like a kaleidoscope.

Next to me, Audrey gasps. "N, this is amazing," she says. I turn my head and watch the look of awe on her face. "It's beautiful. Did you come up with it on your own?"

I grunt an affirmative, a swell of something in my chest. Pride? "L-like, colour," I say. "Pretty.  _Alive_."

Audrey grabs my wrist, and I almost flinch at the sudden warmth against my cold skin. Cold. I didn't even know my skin was cold until she touched me. I am cold, and she is warm and soft and gentle. "You're so amazing," she says and squeezes my wrist. "You're so –  _different_." She sits up and looks down at me, cocking her head to the side. "Are there others like you?"

I shrug. If there are other Corpses like me, I don't know it. It's not like we have a support group or anything. Corpses Anonymous, isn't that a grand idea?

Audrey doesn't push the subject and she relaxes back onto her elbows. "So where do you go when you're not here?" she asks. I lift an eyebrow. "What? You're a Corpse with a house and a collection and hobbies, and you expect me to believe that you don't have a haunt? You've got to have some place where you like to hang out."

And suddenly I know exactly what will keep her attention for a few days.

* * *

**AUDREY**

I flick curiously through the shelf of vinyl records that N has collected, appraising the titles and artists. Honestly, it's a pretty great collection. There must've been a good record store nearby that he's raided to get all of these. There was a nice one in Ohio that I used to visit when I lived there, but I could never buy anything. The nuns didn't exactly give us an allowance. These, though – these are  _really_  great.

I stand up and examine the record that's sitting on the player. N had put it on last night just as I was falling asleep and the crooning woman's voice had lulled me to sleep. Curious, I turn it so I can read the label.  _Patsy Cline._  The name sounds familiar but I don't think I'd ever listened to it before. Her voice somehow made me think of melancholy and my dreams had been sad, memories of the people I've lost haunting me.

I can't help but wonder if that's the reason N picked it. Despite the fact that he's a Corpse, he seems to have a better understanding of human emotions that most humans do. I think maybe he knew that I was sad and he found music to emulate that. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done it. In fact, the more I think about it, every time he has chosen a record since I've come here, the music has somehow echoed the way I feel.

I glance at the door and wonder just where N has gone. I asked him where he liked to hang out and after telling me to wait here, he had vanished. I had no idea what he's up to, but he's been gone a while now.

Just as I think that, the door opens and N slips in. His gaze lands on me, and he nods. "Come."

"What were you doing?" I ask curiously, putting the record back in place and crossing the room to his side.

"Mmaking sure, safe," he says. He leans out of the door and checks both directions before gesturing for me to follow him. "N-no Corpses."

My eyes widen in surprise as I realise what he means. He was checking to make sure that the path to wherever this special place is is clear of Corpses. He's going to take me there and he was making sure I'm safe. I stay close behind him as he leads the way down the alley behind the shop. We move quietly down a series of side streets and back alleys until we finally reach a dead end alley hidden behind an overgrown bush. In it is an ancient blue Bronco parked facing the back fence.

N stops and gestures at the truck with his eyes wide. "Hhhere," he says and then opens the driver's side door. "I th-think here."

"In a truck?" I ask. I run a hand along the chipped and rusting paint of the truck's body. "It's a beautiful truck. Classic. Kind of like your taste in music." N smiles and nods at the open door. I walk over and climb into the seat, placing my hands on the steering wheel. "I miss driving."

"W-what does it fee-eel like?" N asks, leaning against the open door and tilting his head questioningly.

"Driving?" I ask and he nods. "It's such a rush. You're just cruising, fast. Flying over the ground, the wind rushing in your hair. It feels like  _freedom_." I look over and N has his eyes closed, a look of almost serenity on his face. I brush my fingertips around the circle of the steering wheel and smile. "You know, this truck is in pretty good shape. If we can find a few new parts, we can probably get it running again."

N's eyes snap open and lock on me with a frightening intensity. "F-fix it?" he asks and something in his fragmented speech sounds eager.

"Well sure," I say, climbing down out of the truck. I walk around and lift the hood, squinting in at the dusty interior mechanics. "It looks like the engine and that are all still here. I'm no mechanic so I can't promise anything, but I think it really just needs a new battery."

"Can f-find that," N says, coming around to stand beside me. He squints at the engine and I can see his eyes scouring over every detail of the mechanics with rapt fascination. "W-what is it?"

"This here," I say, standing on my toes to point at the square truck battery. "It's what gives power to the truck. If there's an auto shop around here somewhere, they probably have some of these sitting around still. It may take a few tries to find one that still has any juice but it's a shot."

The hopeful look that appears in N's puppy-dog eyes would melt even the hardest of hearts.

"So, do you know of any car parts shops around here then?" I ask, resigning myself to repairing the truck now. There's no way I can turn him down after that look. It's a good thing I've picked up on some basic car mechanics' training in the Compound, because I never learned anything about it living in the orphanage. Thankfully the Compound is pretty insistent on everyone learning a little bit of everything so we can be useful wherever we're most needed at the time.

"You s-stay ho-mmme," N says, frowning.

"Like hell," I answer. "You'll need my help finding out which one will work for this truck. You can't read, can you?" N dips his head. "Exactly. You need to be able to read the labels to know which one is the right type. So I'm coming with."

To my shock, N rolls his eyes. The gesture is so incredibly human I can't help but laugh and shake my head. "Fine," he says and folds his arms over his chest. "S-stay close. Quiet."

"I will," I agree. "It's not like I want to be eaten, N." He nods, a look of reluctant acceptance on his face. "Okay, Cheekbones, lead the way." N grumbles something, presumably about the nickname, and rubs his face almost self-consciously.

Before I can say anything –  _did I really just hurt a Corpse's feelings_? - he rubs his fingers into the still-open wound in his sternum and traces them down the sides of my neck. I grimace at the smell of the congealed blood but I know it's necessary. He explained yesterday that it masks the scent of my living blood and it works best by putting it over my pulse point where the smell is strongest. I don't know how he learned this, or if it was just a lucky guess, but it's kept me alive so far so I'm not about to question his methods.

N sets off back down the alley with a vague motion that I should follow him. I keep close in his shadow as we walk, trying to imitate his shuffling limp on the chance that we happen across any other Corpses. It's not until the main road that we actually see anyone else and the male zombie ignores us as he continues to scratch aimlessly at a wooden door. I want to ask N what that Corpse is doing but I can't risk talking now so I save the question for later.

A few blocks away from the alley we come across a dilapidated AutoZone. Nearly all of the windows that front the building are broken out and it's clearly been pillaged a time or two, but there's still stuff inside. N and I go in through an empty windowpane and I immediately head for the back wall, where a row of shelves stand beneath a hanging sign that says 'Batteries.' More than half of them are missing but there's a wide enough supply left that we may be in luck.

"Here we are," I say, stopping in front of a section of large truck batteries. One of them is leaking acid onto the floor, burned clean through its plastic casing, and two more have been damaged beyond use, but there are three that look like they might be usable. "I have no idea which ones have any power left in them, so we should probably take them all. Help me carry them? They're kind of heavy."

N nods and picks up two of the batteries by the cheap plastic handles. I hoist the last one into my arms and we head back to the alley. It's slow going with the extra weight and we have to take a detour around a cluster of Corpses that have gathered on the main road. My arms are aching by the time we make it back to the hidden alleyway.

"Alright," I say, wiping off my hands on my stained jeans. "Let's see what we can do with this thing."

N and I pass a good two hours fitting in the new batteries and testing each of them. The first one doesn't work at all and the second one chugs but won't hold the charge once we turn the ignition. It's not until the third one that we get any real spark of life in the engine. N's eyes brighten at the deep, throbbing hum of the engine trying to run.

"This is the one," I say earnestly. "Looks like there's a few more things we'll need though. This truck's been abandoned here for a while. Needs some new oil, might want to change out the spark plugs and fuses if we can find some. Thankfully it looks like whoever was driving left it with a nearly full tank though so that's nice."

"We n-need to go b-back?" N asks.

"Yeah, but first I need some lunch," I say. "I'm starved. We'll go back for the other things after."

N nods and escorts me back to his shop/house. I dig through my basket of food and finally settle on cold tinned beans. Mmm, gotta love the wonder of preservatives and tinning, food can last forever. I pry the lid open with the screwdriver and eat, watching N browsing through his record collection.

"N, can I ask you a question?" I ask between mouthfuls.

"Jus-st did," N responds with a small quirk of his bluish lips.

"Smart ass," I say, laughing.

N's lips lift a little higher and he seems to finally settle on an album. "Ask," he says as he puts the record onto the player.

"Do you have to eat people?"

N doesn't answer for a minute, focusing on getting the vinyl started. He closes his eyes through the crackle and thump, and then finally turns to look at me when the rock ballad begins. "Yes."

"Or else you'll die," I guess and he nods. "What about healing, do you heal? I mean, you've got all those injuries," I say, my eyes lingering on the brown stained hole in his shirt from where I'd thrown my knife at him. "Do you feel them? I mean, does it hurt?"

"No," he says simply. "I d-don't feel."

"You don't feel pain at all?" I ask. I mean, we've always had suspicions. When you shoot something in the chest and it just keeps coming, odds are the injury doesn't bother it. But it's not like we've ever had a chance to ask one for sure.

"D-don't  _feel_  at all," he corrects, frowning.

"You can't feel anything?" I ask in awe. I've never really considered that possibility before. What would it be like, going through life without feeling anything around you?

N rubs his hands together as he walks over and sits down in front of me. "N-nothing," he says.

"I'm sorry, that's so sad," I say. "I can't even imagine what that must be like."

N shrugs again. "Bett-ter than b-being Boney."

"Boney?" I echo. In response N hisses, imitating the shriek of the Skeletons with eerie accuracy. "Oh, the Skeletons! You call them Boneys? I like that, it fits somehow." As I consider what he says though, a frown steals across my face. "So the Boneys, they start out as Corpses?" N nods. "Does that mean – are you going to become one of them someday?"

"Mmaybe," he says, a bit furtively, picking at his fingernails. "They are C-corpses that giv-ve up."

I sigh, the injustice of it welling up in me. N is conscious and sentient, and it's not fair that he is forced to exist like this. He is kind and emotive and expressive, and yet his only options in the world are to die - either by starvation or being shot - or to become a mindless monster. He deserves better. He deserves to be alive.

"Audrey." I look up and N is watching me closely with his head tilted to the side. "Y-you are mad."

"I'm fine," I say, hastily downing the last of the beans. "C'mon, let's get back to working on that truck."


	10. Chapter Ten

**N**

It takes us several more hours to gather up and install the last of what Audrey thinks we need to make the truck actually run. I'm not much help with putting the stuff in place - zombie fingers and all - so I spend most of my time just watching Audrey. She is so graceful. Every move she makes has a purpose and a direction, but she moves so fluidly. I wonder if she used to be a dancer Before but I'm too shy to ask.

She talks a lot too while she's working. About  _everything_. In a matter of minutes I know her favourite colour and song and movie, the top five cities she wanted to visit Before, and the foods she misses most. It's the talk about her past that hits me hardest though.

She tells me about foster homes that she lived in, about temporary families that treated her badly and poor living conditions. One particular story is the worst: a foster father with a thing for little girls. She was sent back to the orphanage after stabbing him in the neck with a pair of scissors to save another girl from his wandering hands. Most of the homes were better than that, but only just. None of these stories are happy and they all end in her returning to the orphanage.

"I don't miss those years at all," she says from her place beneath the dash where she's replacing the fuses, I think. "My eighteenth birthday was the happiest day of my life. I was so glad to finally be free. That I didn't have to go where people told me to and I could finally choose for myself. Course then all this happened and all of my plans went down the shitter."

Audrey climbs out from under the dash and grins. "Okay, I think this thing's ready to go," she says and pats the steering wheel. "Should we try her?" When I nod Audrey plants herself in the driver's seat and then pats the other side of the bench. "C'mon then."

I walk around to the passenger side and open the door -  _first try, go me!_  - and awkwardly climb up next to her. Audrey shuts her door and then reaches for the keys that are still sitting in the ignition - clearly whoever owned it took off in a hurry. The engine whines and sputters several times and Audrey curses. "Come on, baby," she says and tries again.

"C'mon b-baby," I echo, rubbing the dashboard affectionately. Audrey laughs as she twists the keys again. The engine clicks, groans, and then miraculously it stutters to life. I can feel it vibrating through the whole truck as the ancient engine chugs, a bass thumping noise reverberating inside of the cab. It takes a second before the sporadic thrumming finally settles into a steady rhythm.

"Yes!" Audrey cheers eagerly, throwing her hands in the air. "We did it, N!"

I close my eyes and listen to the rolling of the engine, patterned like a heartbeat. It's alive, just like Audrey. The radio clicks on and begins playing an ancient cassette tape that's still in there, and the song that comes out makes Audrey wrinkle up her nose. "Ugh, the Captain and Tenille, really?" she says in disgust. She pushes the button so the tape pops out and silence fills the car. Audrey glances over at me and grins as she adjusts the gear shift. "Let's take her for a spin," she says.

"Sh-short," I say, looking out of the gaping windowpanes uncertainly. "N-noise might att-ttract others."

Audrey seems put-out but she nods. "Just around the block. To make sure it actually runs." I nod and she presses down lightly on the pedal. The truck groans as it inches backward, rustling through the bush at the end of the alley. The branches screech as they run along the body, scratching off more paint, and I look around nervously again.

Audrey doesn't seem perturbed as she turns into the alley and shifts the gears again. The truck begins to roll forward and the hum of the engine picks up, faster and freer. She cruises down the alley and then turns onto the roadway. As she drives us out to the main road the wind rushes through the vacant windscreen and I watch the way it blows through Audrey's golden hair, whipping it around her face.

We go twice around the block and then Audrey drives the truck back into the alleyway. The truck gutters as she turns it off and the silence left behind is almost shocking. "W-we should get in-nside," I say.

"Right, let's go," Audrey agrees. We both jump out and she follows me as I lead the way back home. It's a good thing that she still has my blood on her neck because we cross a half dozen Corpses on our way, all of them drawn in by the noise of the truck. It's a relief when I finally shut the door behind us and we're safe inside my house.

Audrey laughs, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. "That was great," she says.

"D-dangerous," I point out but she's so happy I don't bother pursuing it. After all, we're safe now so what's the harm? "F-fun."

Audrey smiles as she sits down in her heap of pillows. "It was, wasn't it?" she agrees. She pulls a can out of her food basket and wedges the lid off. Peaches again. I sit down from her, watching her as she pops one of the squishy wedges into her mouth. She glances up to find me staring at her and she cocks an eyebrow. "Want to try one?"

What the hell? It's not like it'll kill me. "Y-yes," I say. She gestures for me to hold out my hand and then lays one of the wedges on my palm. Tilting my head, I squint at the slimy wedge suspiciously and then run a finger experimentally over its thin, translucent veins. I can't feel it. I tip the slice into my mouth and bite. Sweet juices explode in my mouth and I can't stop my eyes from shooting open in surprise. It's sweet, overly so, sickeningly so. I spit it back into my palm with a frown.

Audrey laughs. "You don't like it, I take it?" she says, chewing her own slice of peach. In response I drop the half-chewed peach into a nearby bucket. "I guess it was too much to hope for, really. If you guys liked normal food you wouldn't need to eat people."

"S-sorry," I stammer, feeling like I've disappointed her. Maybe I could learn to like the peaches.

"No, it's fine," she says quickly. "It's not your fault, N. That's just the way things are. Nothing we can do about it." Her eyes drift around the room and then they narrow. "What's that?" She grabs something from the shelf and it's only when she's holding it in her lap that I recognise it; the book with the rose cover that I picked up from that house this morning. "Oh,  _Romeo and Juliet_. I love this story."

"H-how does't go?" I ask curiously.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she says eagerly. "It's the epitome of tragic love stories. It's about a boy and girl from rival families who fall in love even though their families forbid it. So they make these plans to run away together but - " She pauses and examines the cover of the book for a minute. "Actually, I mean, I could read it to you. If you want. It's not that long."

"Please," I say hopefully. I've always wondered what stories are hidden away in the books on my shelves, and if she says it's a good story then it must be.

Audrey beams. "Great. Come sit then," she says and pats the floor beside the pillows she's sitting on. I move over and sit down, leaning my back against the wall. She snuggles herself down more comfortably and then opens the book to the first page. "Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene..."

* * *

"...For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

It had gotten dark out sometime near the end of the third act - she continued to read by the light of a torch - so it's pitch black outside the windows when Audrey finally closes the book with a soft sigh. I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding - not that breathing is necessary for me anyhow - and lean back against the wall as the tragic ending settles deep somewhere in my chest.

Audrey traces a fingertip around the rose on the cover and then glances sideways at me. "What'd you think?" she asks.

"I - It - " I frown, struggling to find words for the effect that the love story has had on me. "Sad. Here," I finally say and press my palm against my chest, over the still cavern where my heart should be beating.

To my surprise, Audrey smiles. "Yeah, it gets me every time too," she agrees. "That's why I love it so much. It just makes you  _feel_  so much. Nothing does that like an impossible love." She surveys the thin book and shrugs. "But sometimes I wish it had a happier ending."

"Sad," I say again and she nods.

"But I suppose that's the way it works, isn't it?" she says and sighs. "Love stories like this don't exist in the real world, and happy ever afters don't either."

I tilt my head, watching the sadness pass across her face. The defeat in her voice is painful and I wish there is a way I can make her happy again. I touch the book she's still holding and say, "Th-thank you."

Her smile comes back as she looks up at me. "You're welcome," she says. She stares at me for a moment and I think maybe she will say something more, but then she suddenly yawns widely. When she stops she giggles. "It's late, I should probably get some sleep."

I nod and stand up. "G-goodnight," I say and then set off for my nest.

"Night, N," she says, dragging her blanket up over her shoulders.

I place a new record on the player, one of my favourites, and turn it on before I make myself comfortable in my spot. The darkness is heavy around us as I lay down and turn my head so I can watch her. Audrey is curled up in a little ball on her side, her head barely visible over the blue knitting, and the glow from the moon outside casts a bright halo around her golden hair. She is like an angel. I smile.

A sudden, sharp pain throbs in my chest and I sit up in alarm. The pain is gone as quick as it came but I massage my ribs uncertainly for several long minutes later. What was that? Pain? I don't feel pain and yet...

I stretch out again, one hand still resting over my sternum, and muse on the strange new feeling until sunrise.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**AUDREY**

It has to be close to noon by the time that I finally wake up with a weary yawn. Yesterday was a long day and I had stayed up much later than I usually did. I sit up and stretch before looking around the shop for my temporary roommate. When I don't immediately see him I stand up and wander between the shelves.

"N?" I ask tentatively.

A head appears above the desk where the record player sits - currently playing some big band song - and I am surprised when I feel a tightness relax in my chest at seeing him. Shrugging it away as simply a relief at not being left alone in the middle of the Dead Zone, I walk over to see what he's doing behind the desk.

N is sitting cross legged on the floor with a sparse-looking brush clutched awkwardly in his fist. There is a collection of small paint tins sitting on the floor in front of him, the caps removed, and the white, cracked wall in front of him is streaked with different colours. The paints have blended together because he apparently doesn't wash the brush, and the lines are shaky, but it's clear he's been trying to paint.

"What are you painting?" I ask curiously, surprised by this new development. The swirling, smeared lines are almost childlike and it softens something inside of me with the pure innocence in the action.

"D-dunno," he admits, tipping his head down shyly and rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Colours."

"Looks fun," I say and I sit down beside him, surveying the interweaving swipes of paint interestedly. In response, N pushes a can of paint full of bright yellow toward me and then offers out the brush. "You don't mind?" I ask.

The left corner of N's lips pulls up and he offers the paintbrush more insistently. "Please," he says with a nod.

"Okay," I say and I take the brush. I'm by no means an artist but I know that N won't judge me. Dipping the brush into the yellow paint, I draw a circle on the blank stretch of wall in front of me and then paint several lines coming out of it from every direction. "A sun," I explain in case N doesn't understand the primary school depiction. He makes a funny huffing noise that I think might be an attempted laugh. "Don't make fun of me," I say in mock indignation.

"Pretty," he amends, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

I laugh. "That's better." I dip the brush into the tin again and then go about signing my name underneath the sun. The R ends up looking a bit like an N but it's at least somewhat legible.

"'S'that?" N asks, poking the signature so that a spot of yellow paint comes off on his fingertip.

"My name," I say. "See. A, U, D, R, E, Y. Audrey." N scrutinises his painting and I can see the wheels spinning in his head. Holding out the paintbrush, I ask, "You want to sign your name under yours?"

"Dunno how," he says and looks down at his lap ashamedly.

"I'll show you," I say and take his hand, pressing the paintbrush into his palm. I close his hand into a fist and then wrap my hand around his thin wrist, guiding his hand. We dip the paintbrush into the yellow paint again and then I lead him to the wall. I navigate him through the motions - up, diagonal, up again - and then release his wrist with a smile. "There you go. N."

"N," he echoes, staring at the letter with something akin to awe in his foggy eyes. "Name. M-my name."

"Yeah," I agree with a smile. It's heart-warming seeing the pure wonder that is taking over his face. He looks brighter, fresher - more alive. His blue-gray eyes are wide and raptly focused on the yellow letter, and his cracked lips are twisted up at the corners. I wonder if this is more what he looked like before he turned. I can almost see the man behind the gray skin and dark veins, beneath the bruised eyes and zombie fog. With his prominent cheekbones and strong chin, he was probably pretty damn attractive.

Oh God, did I really just say a Corpse is hot? There is something so wrong with me. I need to get out of here, and soon, before I go completely crazy.

"So why are you hiding your painting back here behind the desk?" I ask, trying to get my brain back on track.

N picks at the paintbrush, his head tipped down again. "Em-mm-barras-sed," he says softly.

It takes all of my willpower not to ' _awhhh_ ' at that. "Don't be embarrassed," I say and pat his hand lightly. "C'mon, this building could use a little more colour. What do you say?" I pick up one of the paint tins and grin. "Interior decorating, N and Audrey style?"

He looks up at me, a light in his eyes that I've never seen before, and then lifts the paintbrush with a nod. "N and Audrey."

* * *

**N**

Audrey and I spend several hours using up all of the paint tins that I've collected from the nearby hardware store. There's no patterns or sense to our painting, we just splash colours on the walls. Audrey draws childish pictures on the walls, suns and flowers and stick-figure animals. I can't manage quite such precision with my zombie-fingers so my painting is really nothing more than swirls of colour in between her pictures. Also she took the paintbrush so I've been painting with my hands. We cover the entire front wall of the shop with orange and yellow and blue - and a fair bit of brown that happens when the paints mix.

"I like it," Audrey says, stepping back to examine the wall as a whole. "It looks nice."

"Colourrrful," I agree, wiping my hands on my jeans. I glance sideways at Audrey; she's beaming, a spot of blue paint on her cheek bringing out the colour of her eyes. "Beautiful."

"Not too bad for an afternoon's work," she says with a nod. She sets the paintbrush down and rubs her palms against her jeans. She looks up at me and grins. "You're staring again, N."

"You h-have," I point at my cheek, trying to signal the spot where she's got paint.

"Paint?" she asks and scrubs her palm against the wrong cheek.

"Here." I step forward and swipe my thumb across her cheekbone. I unfortunately forgot that my hands are currently covered in paint, so all I manage to do is swipe a rainbow of blue and orange and yellow across the left side of her face. I frown. "Th-that's worse."

Audrey laughs, rubbing cheek against the sleeve of her jacket. Her skin turns a muddy brown but she gets the majority of the paint off. "It was a nice try anyway," she says and shrugs, continuing to scrub at her face with the heel of her hand. "Thanks."

I gesture at the wall and say, "Thank-ks you."

"Don't worry about it, it was fun," she says. "I'm hungry, but when I'm done you wanna read another book? You've got this really sweet collection of poetry and I've got a soft spot for Whitman. It looked like it's missing a couple pages but it should be okay." I'm tired so I simply nod. I follow her over to her nest where she settles down with a can of more squishy fruit - pale green this time.

"Pears?" she offers after she wedges the lid off. Wrinkling up my nose, I shake my head. "Still recovering from the peaches, huh?" she asks and this time I nod. "I don't blame you. I never liked pears before all this, you know? But the zombie apocalypse kind of makes you appreciate things you always took for granted before. I never thought I'd be grateful for fruit. Although you know what food I'd kill for?"

"P-pizz-zza," I answer.

Audrey giggles through a mouthful of pears. "You remember? I'm impressed."

I pick paint off my fingers. "I try."

"I haven't had a pizza since way back at the beginning of the apocalypse," she says. "Duke and I found some frozen pizzas in a supermarket not long after we met, it was so good."

"D-duke, your fr-riend?" I ask.

"Yeah," she agrees. She heads over to the desk and helps herself to one of the beers from the cooler behind the counter. It's not until she's settled back into her nest that she speaks again. "He saved my life, you know?" Surprised, I tilt my head. "Yeah, that's how we met. I was on my own before that, making my way to the coast. I'd heard that there was a sanctuary for humans there. I was on the shore of Lake Erie when I was ambushed by a bunch of Corpses. They chased me onto the pier and then I fell in. One of them tried to drag me under, and then suddenly there was Duke. He jumped in and pulled me out, brained the monster - Sorry," she adds with a wince. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Fine," I say, waving a hand in an awkward attempt to be dismissive. At the same time that word rings in my head -  _monster, monster, monster..._

"Anyway, he saved me," she continues. "He had been living on his boat in the middle of the lake for a few months. I stayed with him there for a while and then we went for the Compound together. He saved my life more than once, really. Carried me the last few miles after the hunger got to me. I have no idea how we made it without getting eaten." We lapsed into silence for a minute, her swirling the pears around the can and me trying to get the paint off my hands. Oops, that was a piece of skin. Gross. "N, can I ask you something?" I open my mouth and she laughs. "And I know I already did."

"G-go 'head," I say.

"Do you remember how you died?" she asks, glancing up at me through her lashes.

"No," I say. "N-nothing. But-" I hesitate and then pull my sleeve up to my elbow. My left forearm is a misshapen mess, thick knotting scars in the shape of a narrow crescent mangling the skin.

"You were bit?" she asks, her eyebrows shooting up. She reaches out and then pauses. "Can I?" I nod. She takes my wrist and examines my arm interestedly, running her fingertips over the rippling scars. A pleasant chill rolls through me at the touch. "God, it looks painful."

I shrug. "Don't rem-m-mber."

"Ooh, tough guy," she says with a laugh. She traces her fingers along the curve again. "Really though, I hope that's not how you died. That would be a horrible way to go." She brushes her hand over my arm and then lets it go, putting her hands in her lap. "Anyway, that book," she says and she scrambles over to the shelf where I keep all of the books I've found. She pulls out a thick, leather bound book and then sits down, opening it in her lap. "How do you feel about Whitman?"

"Who?" I ask uncertainly.

Audrey beams. "I was hoping you'd say that," she says and turns a page. "Means I get to introduce you to my favourite poet."

And she reads, for hours and hours. Poems of nature and sunshine, of love and romance and sadness and heartache, of adventure and self-discovery, of life and death and eternity. She reads through pages and pages, different authors and times and places. Occasionally she reaches a place where the pages have been ruined, sometimes mid-poem, and she huffs before flipping forward and starting something new without any further comment. Her words are magic and honey, taking the little black scratches on the pages and turning them into images in my mind.

She reads until the sun goes down and it gets too dark inside the house to see the pages any longer. She tries the torch but it only lasts for three short poems before it fades, flickers, and finally dies, casting us both into deep shadows.

"I suppose that's a sign," she says with a dull laugh, dropping the torch onto the floor. "I'm tired anyway." I was aware of that - she's been yawning for over an hour now, getting closer and closer together as time passed.

"Tom-morrow?" I ask tentatively.

Audrey smiles and closes the book. "Sure, we can read some more tomorrow." She pulls her blanket up around her neck and curls down into the pillows. In the faint moonlight I can see her glancing up at me, the light a speck in her eyes. "Night, N."

"Good night, Audrey," I say, proud of myself for getting through the whole sentence without a single stammer or slur. Damn, I almost sounded  _human_.

I lay in my nest and listen to the record player - a soulful record that Audrey informed me is called jazz - while I watch her drift off to sleep. She murmurs in her sleep again but this she is smiling. Happy. I wonder what it must feel like to sleep. To dream. Corpses don't dream.

But we do have the next best thing.

I pat my pocket to check that there's still some gray matter left there and then I stand up and leave the shop. I can't have Audrey catch me eating this, that might scare her away. Make it too real. I can't do that now, not when she's finally beginning to trust me. So I sneak out into the night and walk the winding alley path to where the truck is parked behind the bush. I settle myself in the driver's seat and pull out a handful of the squishy brain matter.

It's not real dreaming, but it's as close as a Corpse like me can get.

_...You can feel the adrenaline and nerves bubbling in you even though you work to keep them hidden from everyone else. You're the leader now, you need to be the strong one. You look around the supply closet and then nod. "Alright, everyone, you know how this works," you say. "We load up anything of necessity and leave the rest."_

_You watch everyone spread out across the room, each of them loading up their specified supplies. Checking the safety on your gun, you walk a circuit around the room to keep surveillance up while the others have their guard down._

_"Mm, look guys, Vicodin," Duke says brightly. "Anybody wanna split some with me?" You glare at him, trying to convey all of your annoyance through a single look, and he jumps in before you can tell him to grow up. "Oh relax, Mr. Congeniality, I'm only kidding."_

_You shake your head and go back to your work, but out of the corner of your eye you watch Audrey. Beautiful, radiant, vibrant Audrey. She's brought so much into your life. She saved you from the darkness when it was threatening to consume you._

_She suddenly lifts her head from her work, her forehead creased with concern. "Did anyone else hear that?"_

_You pause but you can't hear anything. "It's nothing, Audrey," you say, stepping up behind her._

_She scowls and pivots on her heel to face you. "We should get out of here."_

_"We can't just leave," you say firmly, giving her a pointed look. This mission is too important. The sense of duty swells in you. "You know how important these missions are. Haven needs this medicine and it's our job to gather-"_

_Audrey scoffs and waves a dismissive hand at you, walking around you and heading across the room. Tension is rolling off her in waves. "Yeah, okay Vince," she says drolly._

_Trying to ignore the barb, you say, "Flattery doesn't win arguments."_

_"I didn't mean it as a compliment," she snaps at you, busying herself with going through a box of supplies._

_There's a loud crash and you swivel toward the door. "Okay, I definitely heard it that time. Seriously, Brody, I think it's time to split," Duke cuts in suddenly._

_"It's nothing," you say but you can tell that you haven't convinced anyone, let alone yourself. You walk over to the door and peer through the glass window. The hall outside is full of furniture that's been knocked over and stray wires, but it's completely devoid of life. "Probably just the wind knocking something over, it's fine."_

_You turn around, giving Audrey a smug look. She isn't looking at you though; her eyes are fixed on something else. "Chris!"_

_You see it out of the corner of your eye and react just in time. As the door is thrown open you swing your rifle backwards, catching one of the monsters in the face. Scurrying forward, you pivot around the edge of a counter and aim. The big, dark Corpse lets out a shriek just before you blow the right side of its face off._

_Another Corpse is moving past you - a tall, lanky male - and you throw yourself up onto the countertop for a better vantage point. Sighting down the barrel, you squeeze the trigger. Its shoulder jerks backward at the impact and you curse under your breath. Missed. Furious, you narrow your eyes and snarl. "Take this, fucker."_

_The Corpse lurches at you, growling, just as you pull the trigger. There's a moment of pure, total fear that takes over you as it jumps toward you with its teeth bared. Its foggy eyes are alight with animalistic hunger and this rage and beastial fury is the most alive you've ever seen a Corpse._

_It grabs your ankle and a shout of surprise breaks out of your throat as it tugs. A stunning wave of vertigo sends you spinning and it only gets worse when your head clips the countertop on your way down. While your head is still fuzzy, it grabs your arm and you feel its hot breath on your flesh a split second before it bites._

_The pain is crippling and you can't stop yourself from screaming. You've never felt anything more painful in your entire life as it gnaws through the muscle. The warmth of blood rushes down your arm and the acrid, copper scent is stifling. Your breath is stolen as the Corpse's hands close around your throat. Your head crashes against the floor once and then you snap your eyes open._

_The Corpse's face is a hair's breadth from yours. Its teeth are filled with shredded skin - your skin - and its mouth is stained a deep scarlet with blood - your blood. Its pale skin is gray and sickly and from this close you can see even the faintest veins that are protruding from around the fog-filled eyes. Its breath, filled with the heavy scent of copper blood and decay, is humid and sticky upon your face. You gaze into that face and all you see is death. Your death..._

I choke on the brain, something like nausea churning in my core. Gagging, I lean sideways out of the truck and spit the gray matter out onto the asphalt. It takes me several tries to get all of it out of my mouth and when I finally do I wipe my mouth on the back of my wrist.

That was me. The vicious beast that stole that man's life from him. I can't get the image out of my head, the sight of my face contorted in pure carnal rage. Because in that moment, more than any other moment in my life since I died, I am a  _monster_.

I stumble out of the truck and make my way back home. I need to get away from these thoughts, these memories, these truths. I need to feel more like myself and less like that monster. I need Audrey.

Too bad she's gone.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**AUDREY**

The sound of a door closing jolts me awake and I bolt into a sitting position on reflex, reaching blindly for my screwdriver. I look around but the shop is empty. Frowning, I jump up and peer out the window. I can just see the shadow of a familiar retreating back as he turns the corner of the alley and disappears. N left.

This is my chance.

I grab a backpack that N's had stashed away in here and I quickly stuff the last few cans of food I've got into the bottom. I stick a couple other things that could serve as weapons in the bag, wrapped in a stray scarf I find so they don't cut holes in the canvas bag, and then because I can't stop myself I also grab the battered copy of  _Romeo and Juliet_  and tuck it in on top of everything else. Shouldering the bag, I pick up my trusty screwdriver and head for the door.

I check slowly, carefully, out the crack in the door to make sure that there's no Corpses out in the alleyway, but for once it's deserted. My first thought is for getting to the truck. It's the best bet I have for getting out of town in one piece. I follow the path that N showed me yesterday until I finally spot the bush. I push through the branches but then freeze.

N is sitting in the driver's seat of the truck. His back is to me, and I don't think he's noticed me. In fact it looks like his eyes are closed. Well there goes that plan. I'm going to have to get out of town on foot.

I creep quietly back through the bushes and then take a minute to orient myself. I know that I can follow the main road of town out to the highway, and then it's an open stretch of road between here and the city where we were doing our salvage. From there it's almost a straight shot north to the Compound.

I keep close to the walls as I make my way down the alley and up toward the main road. I cut through the park I got cornered in last time - thankfully devoid of Corpses this time - and finally make it to the high street. Staying near the buildings, I jog a ways up the road before I hear a noise. A clatter of something being knocked over ahead of me.

Cursing silently, I duck into a gap between two buildings. I try to keep my breathing shallow and silent as I press myself against the bricks. I can hear the staggered shuffle of footsteps and I know it's a Corpse. I back further into the alley and look around desperately for some escape. I run down to the end of the alley which opens up into a square parking area between the buildings. I would be free except there's a pair of Corpses loitering in the alley that leads out the other side and they look up at me curiously.

Panicked, I look around for something better to defend myself. A screwdriver might help me take out one Corpse, but three? Against the wall behind the building on my right I see an ancient, rusty weed-cutter. I bolt over and grab it, pulling the ignition cord hastily. It takes three tries, in which time the Corpses - there are actually five of them now - have practically circled me, but miraculously the engine whines into life and the plastic cords begin to spin so fast they blur.

"Stay back!" I shout at the closest Corpse, an old man in a blue police shirt. I brandish the weed-cutter and the Corpse steps back out of the reach of the garden tool. "Back!" I call again, spinning on my heel to keep the Corpses at bay.

One of them tries to come up behind me and I bash it in the face with the butt end of the weed-cutter. Another comes in and I bury the spinning blades in its throat, sending a spatter of sludgy blood and tissue everywhere. I'm doing a decent enough job fending them off but I can only do this for so long.

As I'm trying to ward off one of the Corpses another one, the one in the policeman's shirt, sneaks around and grabs the weed-cutter. I yelp as we grapple over control but Corpses are strong and it doesn't take much effort for it to rip the weapon out of my hands and toss it away. Its hands close around the lapels of my jacket and I can smell the cloying scent of decay on its breath as the other two Corpses close in from behind.

I am so fucking screwed.

* * *

**N**

I run back out of the shop in what can only be described as a panic. I don't have an elevated pulse - since I don't have a pulse at all - and there's a serious lack of adrenaline and such, but there's no other way to express the terror and anxiety I feel as I turn in a circle and look desperately for some hint as to where Audrey might be. In the end though I know the answer. There's only one direction she would be heading. She's done a runner.

Turning toward the main road, I take off running. I tilt my head up and breathe deeply as I charge down the road. I can smell her, the scent of warmth and vibrancy and life. It'll make her easy to find, but the problem is that every other Corpse in a mile radius can smell her too. I've got to get to her, and fast.

I've never run so hard in my life. I tear down the road until I find the spot where her trail turns off to the north. From there I hear her startled scream and my dead heart leaps into my throat. I barrel down the alley and the sight I find would have killed me if I wasn't already dead. There are three Corpses in total around Audrey, and Gr has her lifted up by the neck.

Without thinking, I sprint forward and punch Gr hard in the jaw. He collapses, dropping Audrey at the same time. I turn and grab one of the Corpses around the waist and hurl her as far as I can throw her. She hits the wall and crumples. I charge at the last remaining Corpse as he bears down on Audrey, taking his legs out from underneath him. Furious, I grab a loose pipe and bash his head in with it. I grunt - show them what happens when you mess with  _my_  human - and then drop the pipe and turn to Audrey.

"You s-safe?" I ask.

"I'm fine," she says. She hurries over and stands close to my side, visibly shaking. When I give her a patronising look she huffs irritably. "You said a few days, N. It's been a few days. I need to go home."

I want to say no. I want to remind her that it's not safe and drag her back to the house and lock her away with me there forever. She can't leave. I can't go back to the way my life was before she was in it. I want to tell her she has to wait a little longer.

But I can't. I can't because if I don't let her leave, she's going to keep trying to run. She nearly died this time and next time I might not be quick enough to save her. I can't because at some time in the last few days I must've developed a conscious since I can't lie to her. I care too much. I want to keep her safe, even if that means letting her go.

"'Kay," I agree reluctantly and then glance around the quiet alley suspiciously. "S-stay to-gether. Sa-afe."

A scuffling noise makes me instinctively reach out and pull Audrey behind me protectively. Gr is shoving himself to his feet and he glances from me to Audrey and back. "Wha'?" he growls angrily.

"Audrey," I try to explain, gesturing to where she's cowering behind me and watching the interaction with awe.

"L-liv-ving," Gr says, narrowing his eyes. "E-eat." I shake my head firmly. He has to understand, she's more than just a Living. She's Audrey, my Audrey, and I couldn't hurt her, let alone eat her. To kill her, or worse, doom her to an existence like mine. She's better than that, better than all of this. "Eat," Gr insists, his fists curling at his sides. " _Eat_!"

"No!" I shout, taking an aggressive step forward. He might be my best friend, but that's not going to stop me doing whatever I have to do to keep Audrey safe.

A new noise makes us all look up and my fear turns once again into outright panic. At the far end of the alley a Boney is standing, hunched forward predatorily and snarling quietly. And its empty eye sockets are fixed right on Audrey.

"Run," I say, grabbing her arm and tugging her toward the alley that leads out the other side. I can hear the Boney chasing us as I lead Audrey down one road and into another. Audrey's breathing is short and erratic and I know she's more scared than I am. That makes sense, I suppose, since it's her that the Boney is after.

I weave through two more roads and then jump over some debris into an old building. Audrey keeps pace with me as we run - she could probably outstrip me easily if she wanted but I'm the one who knows the area so she's following my lead. The building was some sort of office building because it's made up of winding hallways and corridors.

Midway through the building I come across a door that only opens from the other side. I skid to a halt long enough to slam it shut behind us and the Boney collides with it, snarling at us through the glass. "L-let's go," I say, snagging Audrey's sleeve to get her running again. "Tr-ruck."

"Right," she agrees, panting, as she falls into step beside me. We race down the main road but we've only made it halfway back to the shop when another Boney bursts out from between two buildings. It leans forward, sniffing deeply through flat nostrils, and shrieks. It runs at us and I shove Audrey back behind me, dropping into a defensive crouch.

The Boney is only a foot away when something charges in from the side and throws the Boney to the ground. "Gr," I say in surprise. Gr grabs a brick from the ground and uses it to smash the Boney's head in, spilling sickly, black brain matter across the asphalt. Relief floods in to me, not just because the Boney is gone but because Gr has come around.

"C-com-me," Gr says, his voice low and gruff.

I nod and start to follow him but Audrey balks. "Wait, what? No. He just tried to  _eat me_."

"Audrey, Gr," I introduce, gesturing between them.

Gr nods and gestures for us to follow him. "W-wann-nta 'elp."

"Well piss off, I don't want your help," Audrey says firmly.

Gr gives a raspy chuckle and glances up at me. "L-l-like 'er."

I grin in response and then turn back to Audrey. "S'okay," I tell her. "S-safe."

"You've got to be kidding me," she says but she sighs and falls into step beside me. The three of us jog back down the main road toward my shop and then into the alley leading to the truck.

The corner before the truck Gr grabs my shoulder and stops me. "Y-you 'kay?"

I shrug because I don't have any better answer. Honestly, these last few days have been some of the most confusing days of my life. I feel great being around Audrey and her presence makes me feel like living for the first time since I died, but at the same time I've always known that it would eventually have to end. That in a short while I'll be saying good-bye to her forever. So am I okay? Yes and no.

"Uh, N," Audrey says uncertainly. I turn around and the heavy weight of dread settles over me.

There's a cluster of Corpses standing in between us and the truck. I swallow hard. Taking down the handful of Corpses earlier had been hard enough, but there's got to be at least twenty of them here. Even with Gr on my side, we don't stand a chance.

A sudden warmth startles me and I glance down. Audrey has taken my hand, her narrow fingers threaded through mine, and the heat of it is dazzling. I can feel the soft pressure of her palm, the hardened callouses from firing a gun, and the slight dampness of her anxiety. It's simultaneous with another throbbing pain in my chest, but I'm too caught up in the wonder of her touch to care.

Surprised, I look up from our joined hands to Audrey and she meets my eyes. It's obvious she's terrified, but beneath that I see nothing but trust. She flashes me a small smile, just the faintest twitch of the lips, and I return it.

"Together," I say.

She nods. "Together."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

**AUDREY**

My heart is hammering in my throat so hard I can't breathe. I try to calm myself but I can't. I'm standing at the end of the alley with a huge crowd of Corpses, all of them staring at me. I'm even worse off than I was before. At least then there'd only been five. There have to be at least twenty here.

"Uh, N," I say weakly to get his attention, because he's looking the wrong way having some silent conversation with the Corpse he called Gr. N turns around and I see his eyes widen as he sees the horde of Corpses. My heart plummets. If he's scared too then we're definitely in trouble. Panicked, I reach out for the only sense of safety and security that I have.

I take N's hand.

His hand is cold and dry in mine, like clutching at stone, and I can feel scars and knots where his fingers have broken and healed. For a moment he doesn't move a muscle and then his fingers curl through mine. I'm surprised by how comforting it really is.

I glance over just as he looks up to meet my gaze. Something in his blue-gray eyes softens and I can't help but smile a little. The corners of N's lips twitch upward and his grip on my hand tightens. "Together," he says.

I nod in agreement. "Together." Whatever we do will be done together. I just don't know what we are going to do.

What more  _can_  we do?

His eyes haven't left mine, his blue-gray gaze determined and resolute. I know that no matter what, I'm as safe as I can be in the situation. N will protect me to his last breath. I only hope that will be enough.

At least if I'm about to die, I won't be alone.

N nods grimly and turns to face the Corpses with his head held up. However a second later his eyes widen. I turn to follow his gaze and my own surprise catches me off guard.

The Corpses are all still watching us, but they haven't moved to attack. In fact, they have backed up and dropped their aggressive postures. A fissure is forming down the middle, slowly widening as the Corpses back further away, and it's creating a path between us and the bush that guards the alley where the truck is parked.

"What are they-?" I ask in confusion.

N glances from the Corpses to our joined hands and then back. "Dunno," he says. "L-let's go." Not letting go of my hand, he leads me through the gap in the crowd to the truck. "You dr-rive."

I can't help but laugh at the comment. "Yeah, good plan." I climb into the driver's side as N settles himself into the passenger side, wedging his long legs in under the broken glove compartment. It only takes two tries for the engine to turn over and I back us out of the alley. The Corpses shuffle out of the way as I pull out onto the main road and then gun the accelerator.

Asphalt rolls away beneath us as we cruise down the high street, weaving around broken down cars and stray Corpses. I can't go too quickly because only one of the headlights works so it's difficult to see but it's still much faster than walking would've been. Wind tosses the random hairs that have come out of my ponytail around my face and bites at my exposed skin like little needles, a refreshing chill after the stale air of N's house. It only takes a few minutes before we've cleared the edge of town and we're on the open highway.

"We did it. We escaped," I say in awe, slapping a hand against the steering wheel in excitement. It's nothing but road between us and Haven. I'm actually on my way home.

* * *

**DUKE**

Blurred sounds and images fade in and out of my mind, painting a landscape of unease and fear. Every time the distorted world becomes too much I retreat back into the safety of the darkness, that black area in the back of my mind where everything else disappears. It's better there. Less painful.

Except this time it's harder to get back to the darkness. My safe haven is slipping away and I can't escape from the noise and sensations of reality. No, I don't want to wake up. It hurts too much.

It's pleasantly cool here but my body is warm and comfortable. At least temperature-wise. My muscles, however, ache and pound and my skin itches. My head is throbbing in time with my heartbeat, particularly painful in the back of my skull. There's a dull, empty aching in my stomach. Hunger, of course. I'm hungry. And sore.

My throat feels like it's burning and I try to swallow but it only makes it hurt worse. A weak, hoarse groan scrapes out of me. Immediately the ambient noise of the room picks up - shuffling, scratching, footsteps.

"Duke?" The voice is soft and feminine but it still makes my aching head twinge. "Duke, are you waking up?" I try to open my mouth and my lips crack painfully. God I'm so thirsty. "Oh Jesus, right, water. You need water," the woman stammers a bit frantically. A moment later I feel something pressed against my lips. "Drink slowly," she cautions and then suddenly there is moisture, not enough moisture as it drips into my mouth and soothes the burn. All too soon the water disappears and I groan again.

"I'm sorry," the woman says and she does sound it. "Can you open your eyes? Say something? Please?"

It feels far more difficult than it should but I pry my eyes open. The light in the room is white and harsh and I moan, squinting through my lashes to filter the glow. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the light and as they do the features of the world around me slowly come into focus. The room is square and the walls are a dark navy - papered, not painted, because I can see spots where the wallpaper is peeling away. I'm stretched out in a slightly too short bed, my feet hanging over the far end of the mattress.

Most curiously though is the figure looming beside the edge of the bed. She's backlit by the bright lantern but I know it's the same woman who was speaking because she murmurs under her breath and fidgets as I'm taking in everything. Her face gradually clears: she's small and pale, with short brown hair and a pointed nose. She's wearing a sturdy green jacket. And she's clutching a rifle which is pointed at me.

"Wait," I say in alarm. I try to raise my hands in surrender but something catches my left wrist and I glance at it in surprise. I'm cuffed. My left wrist is cuffed to the side rail of the bed. "Why?"

The woman smiles and she lowers the muzzle of the rifle slightly. "Oh thank God, I really didn't want to have to shoot you," she says cheerfully. "Sorry, we had to make sure you hadn't been infected. None of us was really sure, you know, not with how you showed up here and then just collapsed."

"What?" I ask in confusion but the memories are coming back to me. The med salvage raid. The Corpses attacking us. Stan dead. Evie dead. Brody dead. Audrey - Audrey missing. I remember driving up to the Compound, and Dwight was there, and then - nothing. "What happened?"

"We're not sure," the woman says. "You came back from the raid alone. Dwight says you asked about Audrey and then you fainted. You've been asleep for days. Dr. Callahan thinks you went into shock."

I finally look up at the woman again, taking in her unfamiliar features. I recognise the walls around me now as one of the spare rooms in Vince's house, but her I don't know. "Who are you?" I ask.

"Oh sorry," the woman says and she adjusts the rifle so it hangs over her back before fixing me with a bright smile. "My name's Jennifer. I work for Vince. Well, I mean, we all do I suppose, he's the boss. But I'm sort of like his personal assistant. He asked me to keep an eye on you while he's gone. You have a pretty bad concussion, we weren't sure you were going to make it."

"Wait, Vince has a personal assistant?" I ask suspiciously. "How do I not know you? I live with Vince."

"I handle the people side of everything, I guess," Jennifer says. "Keeping track of how many people we have and how many work in what areas and what resources we have." She leans her hip against the side of the bed and cocks her head, staring at me. "It's weird to finally meet you."

"You know who I am? How?"

"I hear things," Jennifer says and shrugs.

I raise an eyebrow. "You might want to have that looked at."

Jennifer laughs and shakes her head. "Not like that," she says. "That's my job. I collect information from the people. I was a journalist before all this, it's about the only way I can help out here. It's not like Haven has a newspaper or anything. So I hear things from people. I've heard a lot about you and Audrey."

Pain flashes through my chest at the mention of Audrey. "Has she-?"

Jennifer frowns and looks down at her fingernails. "No, still no sign of her," she says. "Vince has had search crews out looking for her ever since you got back. They're combing all the cities between here and the hospital you were at but as of last night they hadn't found anything yet."

I blink back the burning in my eyes. Audrey is gone. She's still missing. "I'm so sorry," Jennifer says and she sets her hand on mine. "I know you two are really close."

"She's my best friend," I say. I sit up despite the fact that it hurts like hell and turn to Jennifer. "When does the next search party leave?"

"First thing in the morning," Jennifer says and fidgets uncertainly. "But Duke, you just woke up from what was basically a three day coma. You're in no condition to be up and around. You can't-"

"She is my  _family_ ," I say flatly. "I am going to find her, I don't care what you say."

Jennifer scrutinises me for a minute, and then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small silver key. She unlocks the handcuffs around my wrist and offers me a hand. "Fine, but I'm coming with you," she says with a smirk. "Vince ordered me to watch you. I'm doing that. So let's go."

I look her up and down again and grin. "Jen, I think I'm going to like you."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

**N**

Audrey doesn't talk as she's driving and I'm content to simply watch her out of the corner of my eye. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel whenever she's not trying to tuck her loose hair behind her ears, although the wind always immediately pulls it free again. The weak moonlight casts a pale glow over her skin.

However in the darkness I can see that her cheeks get darker the longer we're driving, the wind bringing out a pink flush on her face. After we've been on the highway for about an hour she starts shivering.

And then, of course, the rain starts.

It begins just as the city appears on the horizon, a steady drizzle that is blown in through the empty windscreen. By the time we get into the city it's a full on downpour, soaking through our clothes and hair. The weather doesn't bother me but Audrey's shivering picks up until her teeth start chattering.

"Okay, I'm freezing," she finally says when we reach the far edge of the city and are driving toward the surrounding residential area. "I've got to get in out of the rain." She drives for a while longer until we pull into a little cul-de-sac and she parks the truck in the drive of a modest colonial style house. "This is one of the last neighbourhoods that we emptied. There might still be some supplies inside."

Audrey and I head up onto the front porch and I'm just stepping out of the rain when Audrey slaps a palm against the door in frustration. "It's locked. We'll have to try another one."

"I g-got it," I say, stepping around her. Turning sideways, I throw my shoulder into the door. The lock pops and the door swings open, slamming against the wall.

"Wow," Audrey says as she follows me inside. "That's kinda impressive." She shuts the door behind us, blocking out the storm, and then immediately begins searching through the house. At the kitchen table she makes a noise of triumph and then a bright, florescent light floods the room. Audrey comes back carrying a portable lantern which she sets on the coffee table. "Oh wow," she says eagerly and picks up a clunky square thing. She points it at me and presses a button, producing a bright flash that makes me stagger backward in alarm.

"Wh-what?" I ask, trying to rub the spots out of my vision.

"I haven't seen one of these since junior high," she says. She grabs the little square of paper that came out of the front and shakes it. "One of the other kids at the orphanage had one. It's a camera. Polaroid. See." She holds out the square and I glance down at it curiously. It's an image that it takes me a minute to recognise.

"Me," I say, my head cocking to the side in surprise.

"Exactly," she says with a smile. She drops the photograph on the table and then offers the camera out to me. "Here, take one of me."

I turn the camera around and awkwardly find the button. Putting the lens up to my eye, I point the camera at Audrey. She tilts her head and flashes a soft smile right as I press the button. The flash is dazzling in the dimly lit room. I eagerly grab the picture as it comes out of the front of the camera and watch in fascination as the image of Audrey's smile slowly forms on the dark plastic.

Audrey comes up beside me to glance at the photo and she laughs. "Oh geez, well I never was very photogenic," she says dismissively. She wanders off, snapping photos of random objects around the house. I stare down at the picture of her for a minute longer. She's got curled tendrils of hair hanging down over her forehead and her smile is quirked up further on one side. I don't care what she thinks, I think it's beautiful. When she's not looking, I tuck the photo into the pocket of my jacket.

"Oh good, there's some food in here," Audrey says from the kitchen. I can hear her carving open a food tin but there are so many interesting things to look at in this house. Trinkets on the mantle, family photos on the walls, a shelf of books above a cracked television set. While I wander around, picking up things at random and examining them, I keep an eye on Audrey. She's sitting on the kitchen table with her legs folded up under her, scooping cold beans from a tin with a slightly too large spoon.

I'm flipping through a flimsy book full of glossy photos of people with too-tanned skin and too-shiny clothes when she finishes and clears her throat. "Found a magazine, huh?" she asks in amusement. "Never figured you for the gossip rag type."

"St-trange peop-ple," I say, scrutinising the face of a woman who seems to have painted her face on with sparkly colours. It looks - fake. Not fresh and alive the way Audrey looks.

"You've got that right," she agrees. "Well I'm going to get some sleep. Night." She climbs halfway up the stairs to the next floor but then stops before I can reply. After she hovers in place for a minute she comes back down and meets my gaze across the room, her cheeks a pleasantly pink colour. "Actually, you can stay up here, if you want. On the floor. I just - these empty houses freak me out. I don't wanna be alone."

I nod without even thinking about it. The truth is, I've gotten used to spending my nights watching Audrey sleep. It's comforting and in the morning I almost feel relaxed, like I'm the one who slept. I drop the magazine unceremoniously on the floor and follow Audrey's retreating figure up the stairs. The hall is short and branches into three doors - one to a room with a pair of small beds, one to a bathroom, and another to a larger room with a big square bed in the middle.

Audrey goes into the third room and immediately climbs onto the bed, kicking off her shoes with a squelching noise. I come in behind her but a noise from outside makes me pause. A crunching, like something heavy on gravel. It couldn't be a Boney, they aren't heavy enough to make a sound like that. A second later a light passes over the window of the bedroom.

"Get down!" Audrey hisses and I drop into a crouch, squinting at the curtained window in confusion. Audrey slips out of the bed and tiptoes to the window. She nudges aside the edge of the curtain and peers out into the street. Curious, I shuffle awkwardly over to her and lean in over her shoulder to see.

There's three large vehicles in the street outside the house, surrounded by at least a dozen humans with very big guns. They are driving slowly, inching along, and they are flashing bright lights over each of the houses. Even I can tell they're looking for something.

"It's Vince," Audrey says in surprise. "There, in that front car." I look at the man in question; he's big and broad shouldered, with a mass of curly hair the colour of steel. There's a shotgun across his lap and he looks tired and tense as he squints around in the darkness. "He would've killed you," Audrey breathes and I feel her hand close around my wrist almost protectively. She turns to look up at me and her blue eyes are wide and - scared? "He would've shot you right in the head and you'd just be gone. Like,  _really_  gone."

And that's when the importance of this moment really occurs to me. Because she could go out there. She could've turned and run outside, and it would've been an easy trip home for her with an armed guard and the man who takes care of her. She could've left. But she didn't. She's still here, clutching my wrist, looking concerned for me. She is still here, with me.

What does that mean?

We stay standing at the window until the convoy has disappeared from sight. Then Audrey lets out a relieved breath and she slips around me to jump back onto the bed, drawing the blankets up to her shoulders. There's no extra blankets to make a nest for myself so I just stretch out on the floor. I lay on my back, folding my hands on my stomach and turning my head to the side to watch Audrey.

She's shivering still, the vibrating blankets around her making her features blur. Her cheeks are red but beneath them she looks pale and drawn. I want to ask her if there's anything I can do to help, but it's not like I can warm her up or anything. I don't exactly have body heat to share.

"Ugh, I've got to get out of these clothes. They are soaking still," Audrey says irritably, shoving the blankets off. My eyes widen and she smirks. "Oh don't give me that look." She sits up and turns her back, and then she's pulling her shirt up over her head.

I can't stop staring as inches of milky white skin are revealed, divided horizontally by the gray band of her bra. There's a brown spot high on her left collarbone shaped like a leaf. She stands up and shimmies out of her wet jeans - underneath she's wearing a pair of faded lavender underwear - and my eyes are about ready to fall out of my head. Because holy shit, the woman that I lo- the one that makes me  _feel_  is standing there in just her underclothes and my god is she even more beautiful than I ever imagined.

Audrey turns to climb back into the bed and I immediately flick my gaze to the ceiling again, not wanting her to know I was staring. "Hm, that's better," she says as she snuggles down beneath the thick blanket again.

I keep my eyes upward, my mind racing with the events of the last hour. She had a chance to leave, a chance to go home to her family and friends tonight, but she stayed. Why?

I want to believe it is for me; that perhaps she sees something in me worth sticking around for. That maybe - just maybe - she's gotten fond of me. And once again, just like the first moment I saw her in that hospital supply room, I feel that burning, electric  _hope_.

"Hey N." I tilt my head and look up at her, huddled in the mass of dingy blankets. "You have to eat people, but you didn't eat me. You've saved me, like a ton of times now. Why me?"

And isn't that the question that I just can't seem to answer. I would love to know what it is about her that's so special but I just don't. All I know is that I'm drawn to her. That I would rather be ripped apart at the seams by Boneys than hurt her. That I would die all over again to keep her safe.

"It must be so hard for you," Audrey says and that gets my attention again. "Being stuck in there. I know you're more than this and I see you trying all the time. And I think that's what people do, they try to be better than they are. Even when they suck at it. But you, you just try so much harder than anyone I know." She props her head up on her elbow and stares me down. "You're a good person, N."

I close my eyes, overwhelmed with guilt. I'm a good person? Me, the one who eats peoples' brains for a living? Who kidnapped her and dragged her into the most dangerous possible place for a human? Who has been nothing but selfish for the last few days, putting her at risk because of my own curiosity? Who killed her boyfriend?

My hand drifts into my pocket and I close my fist around the strange pendant I took from around his neck. I can't live with it anymore. I can't live with the guilt. "It was me," I admit quietly.

"What was?" Audrey asks.

In response, I reach up and set the necklace on the little table beside the bed. I see Audrey's eyes widen as she sees it. She grabs the necklace and runs it through her fingers, and I watch the barriers come down behind her eyes. She curls in on herself, her expression closing off. "I mean, I guess I knew."

"You d-did?" I ask and I try not to let my relief show because I can't shake the feeling that there's more to it.

"Yeah," she says. "I guess I just hoped you didn't." She bites her lip and then rolls over, turning her back on me and tugging the blanket up over her shoulders so all I can see is the back of her head.

"Audrey. Audrey, I'm s-so sorry," I say, something causing my voice to stick in my throat. She doesn't respond. "Audrey." I watch the curls along the back of her head, hoping for some indication of her forgiveness, but she stays facing the wall. After a few minutes I give up and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling but not really seeing it.

Maybe she just needs time, like before. I stretch my legs and it seems to take a great deal more effort than usual to move them. My eyelids feel heavy as well, drooping so that the top half of my vision is blacked out. There's a strange, heavy pull in the back of my mind that makes it hard to think and focus. It's almost like I'm tired, but that's impossible. The dead don't sleep.

That's my last thought before I drift off.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

**GR**

I've never been one for getting sentimental. It's a waste of time and all it really does it make you weak. There's no time for being weak, not with the way the world is nowadays. It's not easy out there for anyone, Living or Corpse. Weakness gets you either eaten or shot, respectively. I never get sentimental. It's probably why I've lived so long.

N, on the other hand, is incredibly sentimental. He's not like others. He might be dead but the kid's still got heart. He's soft; prone to sentiment and emotion and nostalgia and all those other things. I think that's why he collects all his little trinkets, because he likes to think about how things must've been Before. He feels things more than any of us.

He was that way Before too. I still remember that day when I found him. Or rather, he found me. I was alone in the station, like always, and I heard the gunshots first. Then he came barrelling in like hell was on his heels - which it was, in retrospect, since those gunshots had attracted a crowd of hungry Corpses. He had been shouting but the moment his eyes fell on me he went still.

Now I'm never one to turn down a fresh meal when it stumbles into my path, but I'll admit I did hesitate a second before going after the kid. He just looked so heartbroken. I remember he said "Chief" before I charged and I could smell the salt of tears over the warmth of meat. He didn't fight me. That was the weirdest part. He didn't fight back even though he had a gun in his hand and another across his back.

I should've eaten his brains and been done with it. The kid just wasn't built for this life, he didn't deserve it. He wasn't hard enough. But in the end I just couldn't do it. I felt bad for him, maybe. It was the first flicker of anything that I'd felt since waking up as a Corpse and it was so overpowering I couldn't fight it. So I ended him as quickly and painlessly as I could. Between my hands at his neck and the blood pouring from the arm I'd taken a bite out of - I tried to apologise for that later when he woke up but I don't think he understood me - he didn't last long.

The last word on his lips was "Dad" before he faded out.

After he woke up - scared, Hungry, and with no memory of me trying to eat him - I took him under my wing. I told myself I was just going to keep an eye on him for a bit, make sure that he'd acclimatised to being a Corpse well enough, but it became apparent pretty quickly that N wasn't like the rest of us. Whatever it was about him Before had stuck around in a way and he stayed naive and soft despite his new species. So I stuck around. I was there when he needed someone to talk to - or grunt at, rather - and I never let him go into the Living populated areas without me.

I could never explain it, but I felt protective of the kid. It might've been because I was the one who turned him - he's the only one I've ever turned instead of just killing - or maybe just because I felt sure he needed the protection, but I was determined to keep him safe.

Then he had to go completely insane and pick up a Living friend and all that hard work went to shit.

I watch the blue truck drive off into the night, carrying N and his Living companion away from the place we've made our home. It's hard to make sense of what the hell is happening, really. I can feel that there's something big going on though, something that's centred around the two of them. We all can feel it; I can tell by the way the other Corpses backed away and let them escape instead of eating her -  _Audrey_ , N had called her - and him as well just for good measure.

Well there's no reason to be standing around in the road. I turn and start on my way back to the station. Perhaps the madness is over now and we can all just go back to the way things were before. I glance up as I pass a building with an elaborate marquee that's missing half its letters and something in one of the windows catches my eye. It's a poster, probably advertising some long ago film but I can't read to be sure, and it shows a couple holding hands in front of a sunset.

An image flashes behind my eyes - Audrey slipping her hand into N's, their fingers threading together like the pieces of a puzzle. And then they all start coming in a rush, one after the other: another pair of hands, one thick and rough and grizzled while the other is smooth and tiny, smaller than the palm of the first hand; a little brunet boy with a blue cast on his arm, sleeping in a big bed with a flannel blanket; N, his eyes unclouded and his face unmarked, younger and more alive even than he'd been the first time I saw him and a faint smile on his lips.

The flood of images is broken by a sudden sharp throb in my chest and I take a step back, pressing the heel of my hand against my ribs.  _What the hell?_  I look sideways and there's another Corpse standing beside me, his dull eyes fixed intently on the poster. He too is rubbing a hand over his chest. "F-f-feel it?" I ask because I have to know. Have to know that it isn't just me cracking up finally, that there is something real happening.

The other man turns to me, his brown eyes gold beneath the fog, and blinks. "Y-you, f-feel it?" I press, almost desperate now. A crowd is forming behind us, a handful of other Corpses all clustering to see what's going on.

And he slowly nods.

My eyes widen and I turn back to stare at the poster, at the hands that are intertwined - just like N and Audrey, just like the hands I somehow know belonged to me and the little sleeping boy. What is happening to me? Are these  _memories_? I don't have any memories from Before, nothing from before the moment I woke up in the station without a heartbeat but with an overpowering Hunger. Am I starting to remember my life? And if so,  _why now_?

A growling from behind makes me and the other Corpses turn and we find ourselves facing three Boneys. One of them walks straight up to us, clicking somewhere in the back of its throat, and it leans in right to my face. It sniffs me suspiciously and I can't stop the shudder of fear that rolls through me as I stare back into those hollowed out eye sockets. This is new. This has never happened before. Boneys have never shown an interest in Corpses before, apart from snarling at us to stay away from food.

The Boney shrieks and I jump in surprise. As it continues to advance on me I back away. I wonder if maybe it's one of the Boneys that was chasing N and Audrey, if maybe it's mad at me for helping them. Do Boneys even think of things like that? Since when do I think of things like that?

More Boneys start showing up, backing all of the gathered Corpses out onto the main road and not letting up. After a block of them hissing and snarling at us every time we try to stop or wander off, I feel like I've gotten the general idea.

We're not welcome here anymore.

I exchange glances with the Corpses on either side of me, and then we all turn on our heels and get the hell outta dodge.

* * *

**AUDREY**

I lay awake for a long time, trying to ignore the faint rustling sounds of N shifting about on the floor of the bedroom. I roll Chris' necklace through my fingers. I had given it to him sometime last month when I'd found it during one of our salvage raids. I hadn't even known he'd kept it, let alone that he actually wore it. I feel tears come to my eyes and I blink them back.

It's been easy to not think about Chris for the last few days while I've been so preoccupied with staying alive myself, but I can't stop the thoughts from coming now. I loved him, I really did. It's been harder and harder to be close to him for the last year since his dad died, but that doesn't change the fact that I care about him. Some part of me will always love him, or at least love the man that he was when we first met. And now he's gone, dead, for good. I'll never see him again.

And it's because of N.

I try to be rational about it. N didn't know who he was to me when he killed him. He didn't even know me then. If N hadn't killed him, one of the others most likely would've. We were horribly outnumbered and there was no way we'd have survived. It wasn't N's fault.

But I just can't shake the cold feeling that's settled in my gut. It's hard to forgive him, and it drives home the fact that I've been slowly forgetting over the last few days: N is a Corpse. He's a cold-blooded killer, and all of his sweet charm and puppy eyes doesn't change that truth.

I roll over, trying to pretend that I'm still asleep in case N is watching. Squinting through my lashes I see that he's lying on his side facing away from me and he's not moving. Sulking, apparently. If there's ever a chance for me, it's now. I get out of bed as quietly as I can and pull on my still-damp clothes. I tiptoe out of the room, keeping a cautious eye on N but he doesn't react. He must be deep in whatever he's thinking about.

When I reach the hall I pick up my pace, hurrying downstairs. I grab my bag and then my eyes fall on the stack of polaroids we took earlier. On the top is the first one of N, his puppy eyes wide with surprise. Smiling, I pick it up and tuck it in my bag before I slip outside.

The engine in the truck takes three tries to start this time and I spend the whole time convinced that N is going to come out at any minute and catch me. What will I do if he does? How do I explain it to him? That even though I rationally know it's wasn't his fault, I'm angry at him for something he couldn't control? I let out a breath of relief when the truck finally starts and I peel out of the driveway and into the pre-dawn glow.

It's time for this whole thing to be over. I'm going to go home and get on with my life and forget that N and this experience ever happened.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**N**

I'm standing on a beach, the wind blowing the smell of salt into my face. I blink in the sunlight and then lift a hand to shield my eyes so I can take in the world around me. There's nothing but an open expanse of blue water ahead of me, rock-strewn sand beneath my boots that stretches away to either side, forever in both directions. It's beautiful and serene and I'm more than content to stay here for a long time.

A bright laugh makes me look again. On my right is a strange structure - it looks like the crumbling remnants of a personal dock - that I hadn't noticed before. Or maybe it just hadn't been there before. There are three people standing there talking. Two of them are men, both with brown hair although one of them wears it in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. I recognise the other as the man that I killed, Audrey's boyfriend Chris. The third is a familiar blonde girl with a smile to rival the sun reflecting off the ocean.

"So tell me," Audrey says to the man with the ponytail - I realise I've seen him before when we attacked them at the hospital, and Audrey's described him to me well enough for me to know that he's her best friend Duke. "If the world was right again, if you could be anything in the world, what would you do?"

Duke grins and covers one eye with his hand, forming a hook shape with the other. "Argh, I'd be a pirate, milady."

Audrey breaks out in giggles. "You're such an idiot," she teases. "But seriously?"

"Seriously?" he echoes. "Honestly, I think I'd like to own a bar. What about you?"

"I think I'd want to do something exciting," she says. "Something where I can travel a lot."

"Pirates travel," Duke pointed out. "And they're really exciting."

Audrey laughs. "No, I want to help people," she says. "Something where I can help people who are in trouble. Maybe something like the FBI or CIA or something, catching criminals all over the country and getting people in trouble the help they need." Duke nods and Audrey turns to Chris. "What about you?"

"It doesn't matter," Chris replies with a shrug. "There's no fixing the world. It's not going to get better."

"Well I think it will," Audrey says firmly. "I think one day someone will find a cure and everything will get better. The world will be brought back to life."

Chris suddenly looks up at me and he narrows his eyes. "What are  _you_  doing here?" he sneers. "Are you actually  _dreaming_?"

I look around in confusion. Is that what's happening? "I don't know," I admit, shocked by how clearly my voice comes out. No stutter, no hoarseness, no slur. I sound Living but the visible veins and bruising I can see on my hands tell me that's not true. I'm still a Corpse, I just sound like a Living. "I think so."

"Corpses don't dream," Chris says sceptically. His eyes are like winter ice, hard and sharp and pale. "Dreaming is for humans."

"Back off, Chris," Audrey says defensively. She steps down off the broken dock and crosses the sand to stand in front of me. Maybe it's just because I'm not slouching, but I've never realised how much taller I am than her. "So what about it, N? What do you wanna be?"

"I don't know," I say again. "I'm not even sure exactly what I am." How can I know what I want to do with my life if I don't even have one? Or if I don't even know who or what I am? I'm not Living, but I don't feel like I'm really a Corpse either. I'm stuck in the void in between, merely passing.

"You can be anything you want," Audrey says, unconcerned by my existential crisis.

"We can?" I ask hopefully. There's still a 'we,' right? I hold out a hand imploringly.

Chris snorts derisively. "Get over it, Romeo," he says sarcastically. "There's no way. Not since you told her that you murdered me." And suddenly there is a pencil-thin ribbon of blood rolling down his forehead.

Panicked, I turn back to Audrey but she isn't looking at Chris. She's still staring at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. "We can, right?" I ask again.

Audrey smiles. "To put it in monosyllable," she says playfully, and then she dips her head and lifts her shoulders. "Shrug."

* * *

**AUDREY**

The miles disappear beneath the hood of the truck as the sun steadily climbs up the sky on the passenger side. In the distance I can see the towering stone and steel walls of the Compound rising up against the horizon. Nearly there. I keep a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel as I drive, trying not to think about anything else. Still, I can stop myself from glancing at the empty passenger seat every few minutes.

Part of me feels guilty about leaving the way I did. I keep thinking about N realising that I've gone, the panic in his doe-eyes as he stumbles around the house trying to find me. He's going to worry, I know that. He worries all the time. I think about how scared he was when I tried to run the last time, when he thought that the Corpses were going to get me. He attacked his own people, his own friend, to keep me safe.

And I returned his kindness by deserting him in the middle of nowhere without a word.

He would never understand though. Even if I had tried to explain why I couldn't stay with him any longer, he just wouldn't understand. And I couldn't have left if he was there staring at me with those sad, blue-gray eyes. It's safer and easier this way. This way he can't try to stop me. This way we can go our separate ways without any trouble.

Besides, it's not like I could've let him go all the way to the Compound with me. The moment the wall guards saw him, one of the snipers would've blown his head clean off. I can't live with that thought. It's not fair that he has to live this way, but it's even worse to think of him being gone forever.

God I hope he doesn't try to follow me.

The guilt is getting too strong, so I turn my attention back to the empty stretch of highway in front of me. I haven't seen any Corpses in a while, just abandoned vehicles and the skeletal remains of people who didn't make it all the way to Haven. I weave my way as quickly as I can through the maze of broken down vehicles, ready to just be inside those stupid walls again and for all of this to be over.

I can't be more than twenty or so miles from the Compound when the truck's engine starts to sputter. I glance down at the dash and my heart plummets when I see the little hand of the fuel gauge is hovering below the E. The truck jerks and stutters forward like its limping along. A mile and a half later the engine cuts out entirely. I coast it for a while longer but in the end I have to face the facts. This truck isn't going any further.

Snatching my bag up from the bench, I sling it over my shoulder and start walking for home.

* * *

**N**

Waking up is a whole new experience for me and because of that it takes me a few minutes to figure out exactly what is going on. I blink, staring ahead at the dusty underside of a dresser where I can see a stray slipper left behind, as my brain slowly grinds back to consciousness. Why is my head so foggy?

Then the truth hits me in one dazzling moment of clarity and I roll onto my back before shoving myself into a sitting position. I was dreaming. Corpses don't dream, but I was just dreaming.

Excited, I turn to wake Audrey, to tell her what happened, but the sight before me stops me up short. The bed is empty, the blankets heaped at the end of the mattress in a tangled pile. "Audrey?" I say in alarm. I clamber awkwardly to my feet and check all over the room but there's no sign of her. "Audrey." I raise my voice, as close to shouting as my weak vocal cords can manage, but there's no answer.

I check every room in the house but I can't find her. The bag she left on the sofa in the living room is gone and it feels like my heart has sunk into my stomach. I shoulder through the front door and all of my worst fears are confirmed. The truck is gone.

She's left me.

My legs quaver underneath me and I drop down to sit on the front lawn while I gather myself. I can't believe it. After last night, after she chose to stay with me instead of going out to her people, I had thought that maybe we have something. That maybe she feels just a flicker of what I feel for her.

But it seems like maybe the Chris from my dream was right. There was no way she could feel anything for me, not after I told her that I was the one who killed him. She loved him and I took him away from her. The fact that I feel sorry about that, that I wish I could take it back just to make her happy, apparently isn't enough.

I don't blame her for leaving. Who would want to love a monster?

Standing up again, I turn and start walking back the way we came. There's no point in going on now. She's got the truck, she'll be safe. Who knows, she might be home already with the people who care about her. At least the ones I didn't kill. I've got no reason to keep going, so I head for home.

It's not like I've got anything else worth living for.

This is what I get for dreaming. I'm so stupid. You can't be anything you want. All I'm ever going to be is a Corpse; a vicious, dead-eyed, stumbling monster. Like she'd actually want to stay with me. I'm an idiot for thinking anything different. Things don't change. Things don't miraculously get better. I should just be happy with what I've got instead of hoping for the impossible.

It would be better if I couldn't feel, because then at least I wouldn't have to feel like this.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**AUDREY**

It's sometime past noon when I finally reach the gates of Haven and I'm nearly tripping over myself with exhaustion. The gates open and a familiar looming figure slips out, his gun pointed at me. "Whoa, Dwight, relax, it's just me," I say, lifting my hands in surrender.

"Stop right there, Audrey," Dwight says, pulling his rifle up against his shoulder and sighting down the barrel at me.

"It's fine," I say in annoyance. "It's me."

"I'm serious, Audrey," Dwight says. "Stop. We have to know you're not infected."

I pause, holding my hands out away from my body. "Okay, fine, I'm stopped," I say. "But I'm not infected, I promise." I stand still - or as still as I can on shaking legs - as Dwight closes the distance between us. He pulls a pocket light from his vest and then lifts my left eyelid, flashing the beam into my eye. He checks both eyes before he steps back and tucks the light away again.

"Told you I was clean," I mutter to him.

"We have to be sure," Dwight says with a tight smirk. "Don't want any more sneaking through." I wince when I remember; his daughter was one of the people killed when that Corpse turned inside the Compound.

"Right, sorry," I say and squeeze his forearm in a weak attempt at comforting.

Dwight doesn't answer, just turns and gestures at the gate over his shoulder. A moment later it opens and Duke comes sprinting through the gate. My heart leaps into my throat and I run to meet him halfway, practically launching myself into his waiting arms. Duke hugs me to him, one arm around my back and his other hand cradling my head against his shoulder. I can feel him shaking.

It's several minutes later when he finally sets me on my feet again. Dwight ushers us inside and Duke doesn't let go of my hand the entire time. Once we're safely locked behind the Compound gates again, he turns and seems to examine me from head to toe. "Jesus, Audrey, I thought you were dead," he says breathlessly and pulls me into his arms again.

"I thought you were too," I say, clinging to him. All of this time I've had no idea if he was alive, if I would ever see him again. I can feel tears stinging in the corners of my eyes. "How did you get back?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Duke says with a airy laugh. He strokes my hair fondly and then smiles. "C'mon, let's get you home." He drapes an arm around my shoulders and steers me across the Compound to the house we share with Vince. Speaking of...

"Where's Vince?" I ask.

"Out looking for you," Duke says. "We've had searches out looking for you for days. I just got back a few hours ago, I was going to head out again when the Guard spotted you coming up the road."

We walk the rest of the way to the house in companionable silence, Duke's arm a heavy but comforting weight on my shoulders. He lets me take a long bath and get changed into clean clothes, and when I come downstairs again he's got lunch laid out for me on the table. "I could kiss you," I say eagerly when I smell the warm rice and chicken.

"Promises, promises," he teases, sitting down in the chair beside me and helping himself to a smaller helping of rice. I jump at the chance to eat cooked food for the first time in days and it's only because of his constant warnings that I don't wolf the food down in seconds flat. By the time I finally scrape the last of the rice off the plate I am pleasantly warm and full and ready for a nap.

The burning curiosity behind Duke's eyes tell me I'm not getting that nap until he gets some answers.

"Audrey, where've you been?" he asks, picking up our plates and taking them to the sink.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I start uncertainly, picking at the fraying edge of the tablecloth.

Duke leads me into the living room and once we're settled down on sofa he fixes me with a piercing look. "Yeah well this morning I was starting to give up hope you were still alive and then you came trooping up the front steps," he says drolly. "I think I can handle a little more impossible today."

I take a deep breath to steady myself. "I was with a Corpse."

"You what?" Duke says, blinking in confusion.

"I know it's completely insane, but I'm serious," I say. "He found me at the hospital and somehow he knew my name. Duke, this Corpse, he can talk. He took me with him back to their city. I stayed with him in his house - he has this old bookshop he lives in - for a couple days. And then we stole a truck and came up here. We were in a suburb last night and then I left and came here."

"A Corpse," Duke echoes disbelievingly. "You were shacked up in the Dead Zone with a Corpse and somehow made it out without getting infected?"

"He's not a normal Corpse. N, he talks and thinks and feels. It was the most amazing thing," I say. "I've never seen anything like it. He's incredible."

Duke frowns thoughtfully. "N?"

"That's his name," I explain. "Or at least that's all he can remember of it. It's so sad, he has no memories of his life before being a Corpse, but somehow he's still so human."

"Audrey, this is insane," Duke says.

"Wait, no, I can prove it," I say and I scramble up. I race upstairs and I can hear Duke following me. I find my bag where I left it in my bedroom and I rummage inside until I find it - the polaroid picture. I turn around and show it to Duke. "This is N. We found a polaroid camera in the house we stayed at last night."

Duke takes the picture and stares at it thoughtfully. "This is the Corpse?" he asks in surprise. "God, Audrey, I can't believe this. You've spent the last few days hanging out with a Corpse. This is unreal."

"I know it's crazy but it's true," I say insistently.

"No, I believe you," Duke says. He sinks down to sit on the edge of my bed and I climb up next to him. "I mean, you can't make this shit up. You're not that creative. I just - how did they not just eat you? Even if this one is special somehow, you were in the middle of the Dead Zone. There had to have been other Corpses there."

"It's their blood. Since they're attracted to the smell of fresh blood, N took his own blood and he put it over my neck. It hid my smell so the others thought I was one of them," I tell him.

"Gross," Duke says and wrinkles up his nose. "That must be how come they didn't kill me then," he says on sudden inspiration. "When I woke up at the hospital I was covered in Corpse blood. Someone must've shot one right above me."

"That was me," I say. "The one that threw you into the shelves. It was going to eat you."

"Well I think you saved my life then," he says affectionately. He looks down at the photo of N and chuckles. "So, tell me more about your adventures with zombie boy."

* * *

**N**

The highway stretches out in front of me like a photograph, the horizon a static image that never seems to get any closer. I keep my head down, watching my feet as I shamble back in the direction of home. That's where I belong, in with my people, in with the other Corpses. I should stop being so stupid. I'm going to go home and just stop. Stop thinking. Stop feeling.

And most importantly, I'm going to forget about her.

It starts raining and I bow my head to keep the droplets from getting in my eyes. I try to concentrate on my steps as the rain rolls down my back, soaking into my jacket. The rain is surprisingly cold. It only takes a short while before my clothes are completely drenched and I feel a shudder roll through me, promptly chased by another, and another. It's almost like I'm - shivering.

Shit, am I cold? Is that what this is? But Corpses don't get cold.

In my mind I see Audrey sitting in the driver's seat of the blue Bronco, her blonde hair laying against her face in curling tendrils, shivering as she huddles lower in her jacket. I see Audrey stripping out of her wet clothes, pulling the covers up to her shoulders as her entire body vibrates from the cold.

Great, this is just great. It's one more thing to remind me that I'm not like the others. One more thing to remind me of her.

"Ehhnn!"

The distant shout makes me look up in shock and through the gray sheets of rain I see a shuffling horde of Corpses on the road a mile ahead of me. Leading them is Gr and I recognise that he was the one who called to me. There must be more than thirty Corpses behind him, all of them stumbling along in his wake.

I feel lighter than before and my pace quickens so I can meet them in the middle. Gr offers out a hand and I grip it briefly but it doesn't help. It doesn't ease the ache in my chest. So I do something I can never remember having done before; I nudge Gr's arm aside and then crumble against his chest, wrapping my arms limply across his back and tucking my head into the curve of his neck. It takes him a second but Gr returns the embrace.

So this is what a hug feels like...


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**N**

All of us Corpses have taken shelter from the rain beneath an overpass, and I am fervently rubbing my hands over my upper arms in a weak attempt to warm them up. I shuffle from one foot to the other, staring at the group of Corpses clustered in a loose knot beneath the highway. They're all as drenched as I am and it seems like some of them - Gr included - are shivering too.

What on earth is going on?

"B-boneys, chas-se us, aw-way." Gr tilts his head to look up at me. "Wh-where is shhe?"

"H-home," I say weakly, feeling that ache in my chest again.

"Y-you 'kay?"

And this time I don't shrug, because I have an answer. "No," I admit and something catches in my throat again. I have got to figure out what causes that, because it's getting really annoying. "No."

Gr grunts and he reaches out, gripping my shoulder. He looks awkward about it but I appreciate the gesture anyway. When he drops his hand he fixes me with a serious look. "B-boneys loo-ook, for y-you." I shrug, because why the hell should I care? What more do I have to live for anyway? Maybe it's better this way, get it over quick and stop the dull pain that's been lingering in my chest all day. "An-nd her."

That gets my attention and my head snaps up, panic in my eyes. I can handle my life being in danger but I won't stand aside while she is being threatened. "Why?" I ask nervously.

"St-tarted someth-thing," he explains. One of his hands fidgets with his breast pocket like he expects something to be there. "I saw, pic'hurs. Lassst night. H-here." He taps his temple for emphasis. "M-memories. C-cigar-rettes; a wom-man; b-beach; bad-dge; you."

"Me?" I ask in surprise. We have known each other for - well, however long I've been this way. I don't exactly keep track of time, I just know it's been a while. Having memories of me is of no significance, so why should he mention it?

"You," he echoes. "B-befffore. Young." He looks up and his eyes pierce into mine. It occurs to me then that our eyes are the same colour even with the fog. "N-na-than."

It strikes me like a physical blow and I stagger back a step, because no word in the human language has ever affected me like this one. It reaches inside me and stirs something into life, like a spark growing from an ember. There is warmth and comfort and familiarity in the name. I know it. I may have forgotten but it was always there, waiting for me. My name.

"Na-than." I sound it out, rolling the sounds over my languid tongue. It feels right. Real. "Nathan."

"All, us," Gr says, gesturing over his shoulder at the cluster of Corpses that followed him here. "Sllleep. M-memories."

"D-dreams," I tell him and his eyes widen. "We're, ch-changing." Gr nods his agreement. All of this is blowing my mind. Here I always thought I was just the odd one out, but maybe I've just been ahead of the curve. Now all of these others are starting to be like me, to think and dream and feel. Something has happened, something that's caused a change in what we are. We're becoming something different, more than just ordinary Corpses. A little more Living.

People need to know about this. We have to tell them what is happening, make them see that we're not a danger to them anymore. Maybe we aren't monsters after all. But who can I trust to listen? The answer is almost immediate. "Audrey," I say determinedly. "H-have to tell her."

Gr nods. "H-help, you," he says and then looks at the Corpses behind him. "Yeah?"

A chorus of moaned agreements come back and I grin eagerly. "Let's g-go."

We walk through all of the day and halfway through the night, an unending march of staggering steps and soft groans. Just after twilight sets in we get within reach of the Living compound but we give the place a wide berth, circling around it to the side. I need to get inside and there's only one way I know how to do that: the way that Audrey and Chris got out.

Even in the growing darkness it doesn't take me long to find the warehouse from Chris' memories, with its thick wires running from the roof into the compound walls and the dulled scent of rubber and lightning. Whatever Corpses were living there have long since died or been chased off so the place is deserted. It's easy enough from there to backtrack my way across the overgrown field.

_...staircase where Audrey slides down the banister with a laugh that makes you smile..._

The staircase is tucked behind a slab of collapsed wall and I lead them up into the sprawling lobby of the abandoned football stadium. As the Corpses cluster idly, I turn to Gr. "W-wait here," I instruct. Gr nods and grips my shoulder one more time, murmurs "careful," before I turn and make my way deeper into the stadium.

_...vacant football field littered with the remains of squatter camps..._

There are levels and levels of circular concrete corridors wrapped around the stadium, echoing the sounds of my footsteps back at me as I weave toward the inner stadium. Through a wide set of double doors I come out onto the proper field, the fake grass dingy and torn up by time and rot. There are still clustered heaps of forgotten belongings, most of them speckled in dried, crusted blood. Odds are the people who had been camped out and hiding in here had gotten eaten before they could move on to safer territory.

I take a moment to stand in the centre of the field and look around at the towering stadium around me. Rows and rows of identical seats reach up into the darkened corners of the ceiling metres above me. At one end of the field there is still an empty goal box, the net missing and leaving just the white frame behind like a ghostly skeleton stripped of all purpose. Then there's a proper skeleton draped over the poster-plastered wall that edges the field, its arms reaching downward to the skull that fell off at some point and is now lying cracked on the floor below.

I wonder if I liked football Before. I don't remember how the game is played, actually, but there are a lot of seats up there and I'm not keen on big crowds. Although that might be just because big crowds mean a higher chance of me getting shot in the head. Whether I liked it Before, I don't think I like it now.

Turning back to the way I was going originally, I pick up my pace a little and head for the exit. Once I'm in the corridors on the other side of the stadium I slip down a service staircase and through a hatch in the floor that's been left half-open.

_...half-flooded sewer that smells of dank..._

The water sloshes around my calves as I trudge down the long stretch of underground corridor. I wrinkle my oversensitive nose at the oppressive stench of stagnant water, mold, and decay. This place is foul. I can smell the long ago rotted away flesh of a body that's dissolved in the water, along with a few rats and a dog I think. Pipes weave in and out of the walls, broken off and hanging at jarring angles from the ceiling. My ankles and feet are freezing by the time I reach the ladder that leads up out of the sewer.

_...tunnel full of debris..._

The area beyond the manhole is an open tunnelway, the ground mercifully dry but littered with all kinds of rubbish and cracked stone. The walls are crumbling in several places and dull moonlight sneaks in through the occasional little hole in the ceiling. It's a long, angular track and by the time I finally reach the place where another ladder leads up into a steel and stone wall, my jeans have at least partly dried.

I stop short in front of the slanted piece of sheet metal, knowing that this is the last barrier between me and the Living. This is my last chance to turn back, to go find somewhere safe to hide and just forget about all of this. This could very well be my last moment at all.

But Audrey's in danger.

I pull up the zip on my jacket so the dark stain from the knife wound in my chest is hidden. With the heel of my hand I rub off as much of the grime stuck to my clothes as I can, and then I lift the hood up over my head. Content that I'm as well disguised as I can be, I nudge aside the metal sheet and slip into the fortress called Haven for the first time.

It's nothing at all like I expected; I'm so used to seeing Living houses the way they look in the world outside, that this cramped, ramshackle living style catches me off guard. There are a few normal buildings, houses and towering rectangular business buildings and squat shops, but dozens of new constructions - barracks-style living quarters in dull stone - have cropped up inbetween. The roads have cracked and dissolved into rubble, leaving dirt and stone tracks in their wake. Pastures and gardening plots dot all of the available land that hasn't been claimed by buildings.

The whole place has an air of disarray and I find that I don't stick out near as much as I thought I might. Everyone here looks a little dead - all of them look tired and worn, with shadows beneath their eyes and their clothes ragged and dirty. There's something so determinedly alive about them though, in the spark of their eyes and the strength in their gate. They have purpose. Maybe that's all that separates us; maybe all the Corpses need is a purpose to give them life.

I fall into step behind a group of men carrying boxes through town, keeping my hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket and my head down. We pass an old shop with the enormous front window still in place and something makes me pause. The face reflected off the glass looks familiar, like me but different. There's more colour in the skin and the veins in the neck are less pronounced.

It's no wonder they aren't batting an eye at me here. Except for the bruising around my eyes and lips and the fog in my eyes, I almost look like one of them.

I start walking with more purpose, because this is something pivotal. I need to find Audrey as soon as possible and hear her tell me that I'm not just imagining this change. Audrey described it well enough that when I spot the brick and wood house that stands slightly taller than the others, I know that's where I need to go. I weave through crowds of people and try to remain as inconspicuous as possible until I reach the low wall that surrounds the house.

This house looks more like the ones outside, with its wide windows and colonial shutters. There are even two square hedges sitting on either side of the concrete porch and a tree that looks like it was only planted a year or so ago because it's still a bit flimsy. Almost all of the lights are off in the house, save one glowing from an upstairs window above a wrought iron balcony. A shadow passes in front of the light and I would recognise that figure anywhere. _Audrey_.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**AUDREY**

I stretch out languidly on my bed, indulging in the beautiful comfort of the ancient spring mattress. It's the little things that you miss when you're away from home. I close my eyes and enjoy the luxury of the bed, my pyjamas, and the low hum of a voice from the middle of the room.

After a few minutes of the beautiful peace, I roll onto my side and squint at the room's only other occupant. Duke is sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed, his legs folded up into the lotus position and his eyes closed as he hums softly. He's meditating again, something he does whenever he's got something on his mind.

"So," I prompt curiously, "tell me about this Jennifer." He had let slip the name earlier and I've been dying of curiosity since. The faint quirk at the corner of his lips is the only indication that he heard me, but he ignores me and continues to meditate. "Oh c'mon, Duke. This is the first time you've shown any interest in a girl since you split with that girl last year. Evie?"

"As you'll recall, I've shown quite a lot of interest in you," Duke points out without opening his eyes.

"I'm being serious," I say although my laugh might negate that statement.

Duke sighs and rolls his eyes, untangling his legs and climbing up to sit on the bed beside me. We both prop our backs against the headboard and stare at our bare feet. "She's something, I'll give you that," he finally says and I can hear his smile without turning to see it. "I don't know what it is about her. I think she's a bit mental, honestly. But I like her."

I smile and lean my head against his shoulder. "I can't wait to meet her," I say and Duke groans. "Shut up. If you're going to start dating a new girl, I have to meet her. Best friend rules."

"Does that mean I get to meet your zombie boyfriend?" Duke teases.

"He's not my boyfriend," I object and elbow him hard in the side.

Duke chuckles. "Me think the lady doth protest too much."

"You're such an idiot," I say but the tone is more affectionate than anything. God I didn't realise just how much I missed this, missed  _him_. After all this time, Duke is my definition of home so much more than the four walls around us. This, bullshitting with him, makes me feel like maybe I'm really home and it's really over.

I try not to acknowledge the pang of loss that hits me along with that thought. What do I have to be sad about? But I know the answer to that immediately. N. I still feel guilty about leaving him the way I did. He deserved better than that, especially after everything he's done for me. Even if I was upset with him -  _was_ , because I've gotten over it. He couldn't help it; he didn't know any better. And I should've stayed, at least long enough to tell him that before leaving.

God, what's wrong with me?

"Duke, can I tell you something?"

Duke tilts his head to look down at me. "Stupid question," he retorts. "What is it?"

"This is weird, but don't freak out, okay?" I say, fidgeting with the tie-strings on my pyjama pants. "I think - I think I actually kinda miss him."

At this Duke sits up and turns around so he's facing me, laying his arms on his folded legs. "Really?" he says, eyeing my face with an eyebrow cocked. "Seriously? After all this time of turning me down, you go and fall for a Corpse?" He sighs and shakes his head, but there's a hint of a laugh glittering in his eyes. "Jesus, Auds, you know how to wound a guy."

I grin and bump my knee against his, but I can't stop my mind from racing. What is going on with me? There's no escaping the fact. I miss N. I miss the rapt attention in his doe eyes, the way he focuses on something like it's the most interesting thing on the planet. I miss his trinkets and his fascination with the littlest things. I miss his softness and innocence. I miss the way he made me feel; cherished. Precious.

"Ugh, there is something seriously wrong with me," I say dramatically, slumping back against the headboard again.

Duke laughs. "I could've told you that one."

I comb a hand back through my hair and look up at my best friend wearily. He smiles and pats my knee. "You look exhausted, I'll let you get to sleep," he says, sliding off the bed. He walks across to the door but then hesitates in the frame. Turning back to me, his expression is tender. "I'm really glad you're back, Audrey."

"Me too," I say with a fond smile.

Duke grins and nods. "I'll be next door if you need me," he says and then I see the playful light spark in his eyes again. "Sweet zombie dreams." He slips out and closes the door before the pillow I threw can hit him.

Even with as tired as I am, I can't sleep. I walk around my room, running my fingers over everything on the shelves and enjoying the familiarity of my space. When I stumble across my bag I unpack my things from inside it, setting the cans of food aside. I linger over the battered paperback copy of  _Romeo and Juliet_ , thinking fondly of the way that N's eyes had lit as he listened to the story.

And there I am thinking about him again.

I stow the book away on the shelf along with my other books, most of them crappy airplane paperbacks I've scavenged over the last few years. I tuck it in after the last book I read, a vampire romance called  _Unstake My Heart_  and then I stick the photo of N in between the pages for safekeeping. Maybe all those supernatural books have gotten to me, if I'm starting to develop a crush on a Corpse.

Clearly I need some fresh air. I walk to the balcony doors and shove them open, grateful for the surge of cool night air that rushes in. I break out in gooseflesh but it feels good so I step out onto the cement pad and lean against the iron railing. All of Haven is stretched out before me, brown and gray, speckled with little glittering lights of patrols and campfires. It's not the most beautiful place, nothing like the colourful bookshop where N lives, but it's home. It's where I belong.

"Audrey."

The hushed shout startles me and I straighten up, leaning over the rail to look down at the source of the voice. It can't be... But there, standing on the little patch of dying grass that serves as our lawn, is a familiar figure in a brown and black jacket and jeans. Even with the hood up I can see those prominent cheekbones and plaintive puppy eyes.

"N, what are you doing here?" I hiss frantically. I immediately look around for any sign of patrols nearby but we're safe for the moment.

"Had to s-see you," N answers, shuffling his feet.

The stupid, sweet Corpse... "It's not safe for you here," I tell him.

From the room beside mine I hear Duke shout, "Audrey, are you okay?"

"Fine," I call back into the room, my anxiety shooting through the roof. Twisting back to N, I continue, "The people here aren't like me. They'll  _kill_  you, N."

"I know," he says unconcernedly. And no, my heart doesn't leap at that. Not at all. Just like I'm not in denial. "H-had to see you."

My bedroom door opens and panic explodes in my chest. "Seriously, Audrey, are you okay? Are you talking to yourself?" Before I can gesture for N to hide or something, Duke steps out onto the balcony behind me. His gaze follows mine and his eyes widen almost comically as he staggers into the wall. "Christ, is that-?" He turns to me questioningly. "Is that  _him_?"

"Yeah, that's him," I admit weakly, because what else can I do at this point?

Duke leans to look over the railing again and down on the lawn N flashes him a scared, tentative smile. "Hey," Duke replies, waving shortly.

"I've got to get him inside," I say. There's nothing stopping me now, not now that Duke knows. We're the only ones in the house to see anything. I shoulder passed Duke and run down the stairs to the front door. When I open it N is standing on the front step, looking nervous. "Hi," I say, at a loss for words.

"Hi," he parrots, his gray-blue eyes fixed on mine intently even as he dips his head uncertainly and rubs at the back of his neck. The move is so characteristic, so specifically him, that everything I've been wrestling with all night comes surging back to the surface. I stand on my toes and throw my arms around his neck, and it only takes a second before he returns the embrace, his arms wrapped so tightly across my back that my toes leave the ground for a moment.

"I'm sorry," I say into the curve of his neck.

"Me too," he says, setting me down on my feet again although he doesn't release me. I have no room to talk because my arms are still wrapped around his neck tight enough I'd probably choke him if he needed to breathe. It's weird, but hugging him feels good. Right. I'm smaller than him, but I seem to fit against him, curled in the protective shelter of his gangly arms. I nuzzle my head against his collarbone, feeling the comfortable coolness of his skin beneath the thin tee-shirt.

"Weird, you feel warmer than I remember," I say, finally taking a step back to look up at him. He used to be cooler, chilled like stones in winter, a sort of secondhand cold. He's still not a normal body temperature, but now the cool feels nice, like the other side of the pillow on a summer night.

A light glinting off the building opposite jars me back from my musings and I grab N's arm. "That's the patrols. C'mon, get inside." I drag him into the house by the arm, shutting the door securely behind us. I look up at N, standing awkwardly in the foyer of the house, and I can't help but smile at how out-of-place he looks. "You're lucky Vince got called out on some emergency. You'll be safe here tonight."

I take N's hand and lead him up the stairs and into my bedroom, where Duke is hovering in the doorway looking anxious. I usher N to the two-seater in the corner of my room and then, to break the ice, I say, "N, this is Duke. Duke, this is-"

"Na-than," N interrupts me.

I start, glancing up at him, and he's almost smiling again. "Nathan? Did you remember your name?"

N shakes his head. "Gr."

"Gr knew it?" I ask and this time he nods. "So did he know you before you were a Corpse then? How do you think he knew you?"

"D-don't, know," N -  _Nathan_  - says, but I notice that he grips his forearm, the one mangled with scars, almost defensively.

"Wow, N, you have a name," I say in awe, squeezing his hand excitedly. "Nathan."

Duke pulls the desk chair over in front of us and straddles it backwards, folding his arms over the back. "This is unreal," he says, cocking his head to the side and staring at Nathan. "I mean he's pale but he's not really gray. And he doesn't even smell dead."

"N - I mean Nathan. Wow that's going to take some getting used to," I say. It's captivating, watching the way his eyes light up when I say his name. "Nathan, what are you doing here?"

"C-came to show," he says. "Show everyone w-we can change."

My heart plummets and I close both of my hands around one of his. "Oh Nathan, no one's going to believe that," I say sadly. I can understand because I've seen it happen, but the others? "They'll shoot you long before you get a chance to say anything. It's a miracle you made it here without getting killed."

"Wait," Duke says, holding up a hand. "Did he say 'we?'"

"L-lots of us," Nathan says insistently. "Ch-changing. Dr-reaming."

I exchange amazed looks with Duke. "We've got to tell Vince," I say.

"Oh please, Audrey," Duke says sarcastically.

"No, I'm serious," I say. "This is a big deal. He can be reasonable, we can make him listen."

"Vince hasn't been reasonable in years. Not since Dave died," Duke says. "Dave was the one who listened. Vince is the one who shot his brother in the face the very second he showed signs of turning, remember?"

Nathan looks momentarily frightened and I squeeze his hand reassuringly even as I have to agree with Duke. Losing Dave really did unhinge Vince a little, but it's the only shot we've got. "We have to try," I say. I glance at Nathan and frown. He may not look like a normal Corpse, but he is still clearly not one of us. "But we've got to find a way to get him through the city without getting too much attention. Just pulling up his hood isn't going to help in the city centre, not with so many people. "

"I've got an idea," Duke chips in. "Just a sec." He stands up and leaves the room, and through the thin walls I can hear him rummaging around in his room. He comes back a few minutes later with a little cloth bag and hands it to me. Curious, I open it. The bottom is littered with various types of makeup, from half-empty bottles of foundation to assorted lipsticks and eyeshadows. "I've been gathering this stuff on salvage raids," Duke explained. "I was saving it to be your birthday present but this seems as good a reason to give it early as any."

"This could work," I say excitedly, lifting out a little circular container of blush and holding it up. "Some foundation and a bit of blush, maybe some lipstick. Just enough to put some colour back in your face."

Nathan's eyes widen in alarm and to my amusement he shakes his head. "No m-makeup," he says.

"Yeah, definitely yeah," I respond. I stand up and offer a hand out to him. "C'mon, Nathan, time for a zombie makeover."


	20. Chapter Twenty

**NATHAN**

Of all of the things in life that I've wanted to experience, getting a makeover is not one of them. I try to point out that I made it this far looking the way I do, that I managed to get from the secret entrance to their house without getting caught, but they're hearing nothing of it.

"We're going right into the heart of the city," Audrey says. "There are a lot more people there than around the edges where you were. The guards pay more attention. We've got to be more careful. Please, Nathan."

And damn it all if I won't do anything in the world just to hear her say my name again. I thought it sounded great just to hear it at all, to know that it's mine, but hearing it off her tongue? There's nothing in the world that sounds as good as that.

So I grudgingly nod and Audrey immediately starts making plans. While she gets dressed and sets up the makeup supplies, she has Duke escort me into the bathroom at the end of the hall for a shower. "So you don't remember anything about your life before you died?" he asks curiously after helping me out of my jacket.

I'm busying trying to untangle myself from my shirt so I simply shake my head. When I finally get the bloodstained henley and the dingy tee beneath it off, I toss them on the floor almost proudly. A flash of dark colour catches my attention and I look down at my bare forearm. The one not mangled by scars has a tattoo inked into the skin, one I've never noticed before. Not a surprise really, it's not like I've ever gotten my shirt off before.

The tattoo is solidly black, just below the inner curve of my elbow. It shows a circular maze and four little figures standing at each of the compass points. I have no idea what it means but it sends a strange chill through me as I run a finger over the design.

"Hey I know that symbol," Duke says abruptly. He grabs my wrist and turns my arm so he can see the tattoo better. "It's a local thing, a bunch of the guys around here have it. Vince has it too, and Dwight."

"Wh-what does't mean?" I ask, hope surging in my chest. A clue, a hint of something about myself. Who I was Before.

"It's some group thing," Duke explains. "It all fell apart long before I got here, but as best I can remember from what Vince said, it was the sign of a group who came together to help people when this whole apocalypse thing started. Cops and firemen and army guys. They all banded together and then would go out in raids, hunting for survivors and getting them back to Haven safely. Half the people here are only alive because of those guys."

"I was one," I say in awe, touching the tattoo again. Was that the kind of person I was Before? A defender. I risked my life to save people. Clearly it didn't end well for me - and the whole eating people thing has probably tipped the scales on me more - but the knowledge that maybe I did some good Before helps the guilty ache in my chest.

"Audrey did say you've got a thing for protecting people," Duke says with a shrug. "Makes sense, I suppose. Maybe that bit of you hung over from before you died." I can't stop the smile that creeps over my face at the thought.

To my embarrassment, my clumsy zombie fingers can't work the button of my jeans or the tangled knots in my shoelaces, so Duke has to help me finish undressing. Five minutes and some really uncomfortable moments later, I'm standing naked in the bathroom while Duke turns on the shower. He straightens up and glances at me, and a sardonic grin twists up his lips. "Well look at that, Pinocchio, you are a real boy."

If I could blush, I would be. Instead I narrow my eyes and growl low in my throat. Duke chuckles and lifts his hands in a sign of surrender. "Okay, right, don't tease the Corpse, I get it," he says, shaking his head. "Just don't bite me, yeah?"

The comment came out jokingly, almost flippant, and I tilt my head as I scrutinise him. The reality strikes me and if I breathed it would've knocked the air out of me. "You t-trust me," I say. "To not b-bite you."

"I trust Audrey," he corrects idly. "She says you're a tame Corpse, I believe her." He plunges his hands into the pockets of his pyjama pants. "Now get in the shower before all the warm water's gone."

Turning my back on him, I climb into the shower and let the just-shy-of-hot water roll down my chest. I watch in interest as the dark blood and dirt are washed away, coiling down until they turn into dingy puddles in the water at my feet. I can barely feel the pressure of the water streams striking my skin and can't help but wonder how good it would feel if I had the nervous system of a Living.

Duke is standing guard on the other side of the blue curtain and I can hear him shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other. "So Nathan, this thing with you and Audrey," he starts and my stomach twitches awkwardly.

"Do th-this now?" I ask incredulously.

Duke laughs. "Yeah, not the greatest moment but it's probably the only chance to talk alone that we've got," he says. I can hear the  _scritch_  noise of him rubbing at his beard anxiously. "Look, I still think the idea of there being anything between a human and a Corpse is insane, but Audrey's never been one to follow the rules of normal and I can already tell that neither are you. It's just - she's all the family I've got in this world. She's my best friend. And I can tell you care about her. Thinking I'd lost her almost killed me. I just want to know that you're going to keep her safe. Can you promise that you'll do whatever it takes to protect her?"

I think longingly of the record player in my house, of all of the songs that I could use to so easily express the sentiment that's lodged in my throat. Well, nothing for it. Time to use my words like a Living person. I swallow hard and then speak to my hands. "I l-love her," I admit and the words leave me like a weight, making my shoulders straighten. Wow it feels good to say that out loud. "I'd die 'gain to k-keep her safe. Long as I l-live, nothing'll hurt her."

I hear Duke push himself up off the wall and he clears his throat. "Good. That's all I ask. Okay, you should be as rinsed off as you're gonna get. I'll go grab a towel and some clean clothes for you. Just a sec."

He comes back a minute later and shuts off the water, and then passes me a towel. I dry myself off as best as I can and then Duke helps me to dress in a set of his clothes. The jeans are a little loose in the hips but the plain white tee-shirt fits well enough. Once we've managed to get my shoes laced again he leads me back into Audrey's bedroom.

Audrey is dressed again and sitting at the desk, the wooden tabletop covered in an array of bottles and tubes and little plastic tubs. She turns around when we come in and grins. "Sit down," she says, gesturing me into the chair she just vacated. I drop down, dreading what's coming, and she gets to work immediately.

There are flesh-coloured pastes that she spreads all across my face, neck, and hands. A red powder she rubs into my cheeks. A black pen is used around my eyes and another on my lashes, and a tube of pale brownish pink that she smears across my lips. It all feels weird and uncomfortable and incredibly fake - like those girls in the magazine - but Audrey seems happy with what she's doing so I don't argue with her.

Let's be honest, when do I ever argue with her? Okay so I do, but it's not like it does any good; she doesn't listen anyway. I can argue all I want but I'll still lose.

While she's working Duke wanders off and he comes back later dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and loose denim shirtsleeves beneath a dark knit jacket. Through plenty of practice, I can see the bulge of the handgun tucked into his waistband. When everyone and their dog is trying to shoot you in the head, you get good at telling who's packing.

"Wow," he says, stopping short in the doorway. "He looks-"

"Too much?" Audrey asks, stepping back and examining me like a painter would a canvas.

"You are a wizard with that makeup," he replies. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he's alive."

Standing up, I walk over to the mirror above Audrey's dresser and stare at the face I can see there. There are so many colours on my face - light tan along my jaw, the faint dark stubble I've always had prickling through, dusty rose on my lips, black on my lashes that draws focus away from the fog in my eyes, bright pink in my cheeks. I lean back and meet the gaze of the mirror.

I look Living.

Turning around, I watch the grin that spreads across Audrey's face. "Great," she says eagerly. "Okay, let's go." Duke nods, Audrey takes my hand, and we all head down the stairs to the door.

* * *

**AUDREY**

Haven is only just beginning to come to life around us as we make our way through the city. Dawn is still about two hours away so only the earliest risers are out, although the streets are still cramped with those who camp in tents along the roads. I can feel eyes fixed on us as we walk toward the centre compound, an old warehouse building that's been converted to the strategic homebase for Haven.

N -  _Nathan_ \- is a cool, steady presence beside me even though I can feel his nervousness through the way he's gripping my hand so tightly. I don't fail to notice that he seems taller, his shoulders held slightly higher, and his limp is less pronounced as he walks. It's less like he's dragging his leg behind him and more like he's properly using it.

His face also looks radically different beneath the layer of makeup. His skin is an even tone, just a shade lighter than mine, and the dusty rose colour of his lips makes them actually stand out against his skin instead of blending into them. I might've gone a bit overboard with the blush but it does help make him look like he's actually affected by the chilly air. And his eyes - focused, calculating, and active - almost look like they're meant to be blue-gray instead of being hazed over by zombie fog.

"What?" Nathan asks, glancing sideways at me as we draw closer to the front doors of the centre compound.

"Sorry," I say, quickly looking forward again. I can feel a blush creep along my cheeks as I realise I was just caught staring - at a Corpse. Nathan is looking uncomfortable too, so I do the first thing I can think of to make him feel better. "It's just - you look really nice." The corner of Nathan's lips twitches upward and he dips his head shyly.

I look up at the warehouse compound as it looms in front of us and a hint of trepidation sneaks in. "Look, this may not work," I admit quietly. "It's kinda hard to tell how Vince'll react to anything."

Nathan stops us in the middle of the path and turns to face me. His expression is serious, almost stern, as he takes my hands. "No m-matter what, we stay together," he says, lowering his head slightly so he can meet my gaze.

"Of course," I agree.

"We're, changing th-things," he says deliberately. "H-have to stay to-gether. To stay safe. Promise?"

And I realise that he's right. No matter what happens in there, we have to stick together because whatever is going on is centred around us. My normal life here in Haven is over. So I look up into Nathan's eyes and nod. "Promise."

"C'mon you two," Duke says from ahead of us, glancing over his shoulder when he realises we've stopped.

"Coming," I say and then shoot one last look up at Nathan. "Together?"

He threads his fingers through mine and a slow smile steals over his face. "Together."


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**AUDREY**

Dwight is standing guard at the entrance to the warehouse and I feel a little bit relieved to see him. Despite his intimidating appearance, he's one of the nicer guards. When I first started going on raids he used to go along too and we got along. Then there was that Corpse attack on Haven while we were out on a raid and his daughter died - not bitten but shot in the crossfire. After that he decided to stick closer to home and took up guarding the wall and training the men to have better aim.

Nathan grips my hand tighter as we walk up to Dwight. The giant blonde puts out a hand, catching Duke in the chest and stopping him up short. "You guys can't go in there," he says shortly. "Vince's handling some real emergency in there."

"Relax, Sasquatch," Duke says, shoving his hand away. "We've got our own emergency to talk to him about." Dwight scowls but he lets Duke shoulder passed him. Since we live with Vince, Duke and I can usually get our way with just about anyone in Haven. It's not the sort of thing we usually take advantage of but I'd consider this a worthwhile time to pull out that card.

Dwight watches us suspiciously as we walk passed him and I feel Nathan tense. "Hey," Dwight says casually. Nathan looks momentarily panicked before he stutters out, "H-hey." Trying not to smile at his awkwardness, I tug his hand to get him walking again. With Duke at the lead, we enter the warehouse.

The inside is a hive of activity, soldiers rushing back and forth and shouting orders to each other. The three of us stay close to the edge of the walkway as people run beside us, prepping equipment as they go. It takes me a minute to spot Vince among all the chaos but I finally find him standing near a row of humvees, rallying off orders to a cluster of the high-ranking guards.

"I don't know how he's going to react, so you'd better wait here," I say to the boys. We step behind a row of shelves where we're out of the way of the stampeding soldiers. "Stay here, I'll go talk to him." I squeeze Nathan's hand one more time and then slip back around to head up to Vince.

He sees me out of the corner of his eye just as I'm approaching. "Audrey, now's not a good time," he says, his wheezy voice tired and exasperated. "I'm handling a situation."

I look around at the rush of soldiers and down at the map spread across the hood of the humvee in front of him, frowning at the black markings that are filling up every roadway leading toward the compound. "Why? What's going on?" I ask.

Vince frowns, rubbing his hands together in a sign of anxiety. "There's a sizeable force of Skeletons heading this way," he admits. I glance again at the map, the realisation striking me through. Each one of those black marks is a group of Boneys, and they're all headed toward our home. Because of me.

"Vince, I need to talk to you," I say, the dangerous situation making this all the more important.

"Now?" Vince asks pointedly, adjusting the strap of the rifle hung across his back. I see him exchange annoyed looks with the guard member standing on the other side of the humvee hood.

"Yes, now," I repeat insistently. Vince smirks indulgently as I grab his arm and drag him around another jeep so we can have privacy. "Please, Vince, you have to listen," I start. "This is really important."

"More important than the hordes of Skeletons that are amassing to eliminate us?" Vince's voice is a sarcastic drawl and I can tell he's only half-humouring me. Time to go for the shock factor.

"The Corpses are changing," I blurt. It's not the wisest move but it achieves what I want; Vince is paying attention to me now. "I think they're coming back to life."

"Oh really?" Vince asks, still too sardonic.

"I've seen it happen," I explain. "I know it sounds crazy but-"

Vince snorts derisively. "It  _is_  crazy, Audrey," he cuts across me. "The Corpses aren't going to just change. We're their food source. They  _eat_  us. They are not going to just become vegan out of the blue."

I open my mouth to say something but before I can make any sound, Nathan steps around the shelves beside us and tries to square up with Vince. Even as he straightens his shoulders, I can see fear and determination in his eyes. I reach out and take his hand, and his posture strengthens even more.

"Nathan Wuornos?" Vince asks in surprise, his narrowed eyes widening abruptly. "My God, you've been missing for ages, we thought you were dead."

"Wait, you know each other?" I ask, glancing between Nathan and Vince.

"Of course," Vince says. "Nathan was part of the Guard back when we first established Haven, he ran more searches than just about anyone here. Always determined to save everyone." He looks Nathan up and down and then frowns suspiciously. "How do you know Audrey?"

Nathan's mouth opens and closes, his eyes wide and alarmed. "He saved my life out there," I offer.

"I wasn't asking you, Audrey," Vince says and his voice has gone cold. "I was asking him."

Nathan still looks terrified as he struggles to get the words out. "I-I s-s-sav-ved-"

The comprehension dawns suddenly in Vince's face. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Nathan's different than the others," I say quickly. "When I was lost out there he saved me. He protected me. And he's been changing the whole time I've known him. I triggered something in him, and that's triggered something in all the others."

"And now he's triggered something in me." With a speed that he shouldn't possess at his age, Vince wipes out his sidearm and backs Nathan into a towering shelf. He presses the muzzle of the Rueger into Nathan's throat, his eyes flashing.

"Vince, no!" I say, grabbing his wrist, but he's stronger than he looks. "Please, they're getting better, I swear it."

"Things don't get better," Vince snarls furiously. "People turn to Corpses, and then I shoot them in the head. It's what happened to Dave, and to Chris, and now to him."

The click of a gun hammer being drawn back makes me flinch in horror, but nothing happens. I squint to see and Vince has frozen, his eyes wide in shock. Duke is standing behind him, the nose of his own handgun resting against the back of Vince's head. "Back off 'em, Vince," Duke says, his voice low and menacing.

Vince smirks. "You wouldn't shoot me," he says unconcernedly.

"For Audrey?" Duke says, raising a challenging eyebrow. "Oh you bet I would." Vince seems to consider this for a moment, and then he finally lifts his hands in a sign of surrender. Duke tugs the gun from Vince's hand and passes it to me. "Run," he says. "You two get out of here and be safe."

"Thank you, Duke," I say. I tuck the Rueger into the waistband of my jeans and then stand on my toes to kiss him on the cheek. I glance at Vince sadly and am met with only frustration and anger. Squeezing Nathan's hand tighter, I turn on my heel and we run out of a side door in the warehouse. We jog for a bit until we're alone in a narrow path between two buildings.

"Well that could've gone better," I say, clutching the stitch in my side. Nathan makes a puffing noise I think is supposed to be a scoff. "C'mon, we'd better keep moving." The words have barely left my mouth before the compound alarms go off. Panicked, I grab Nathan's hand again and tug him behind me.

We race down several streets, ducking through perplexed and scared looking people who are trying to figure out what's triggered the alarm, until we reach the wall that guards the secret tunnel. Nathan shoves the sheet metal out of the way and we duck through, blocking the path behind us.

"Safe?" Nathan asks.

"For now," I say, squinting through the dim light at the tunnel ahead of us. "But there's an army of Boneys on their way here. We've got to find somewhere better to hide."

"The others," Nathan says and I remember that he said he'd brought other changed Corpses with him. I nod in agreement and he leads the way down the tunnel. I never let go of his hand as we make our way through the dingy, echoing corridors, my other hand hovering over the handgun tucked in my waistband. Since he seems to know where we're going, I let Nathan lead while I focus on making sure we're not being followed.

"How did you even know about this path?" I ask as we're cutting across the empty football field.

Nathan glances over his shoulder at me and there's something furtive in his eyes, but he just shrugs and says, "M-memories." I want to ask him more, find out just how many memories he's gotten back, but then we're out of the field and I stop short in awe.

The entire lobby of the stadium is packed with Corpses, all of them shuffling in place and staring at us expectantly. There's dozens of them, so many more than I was expecting. Nathan had said thirty or so but there must be double that here. The one in the cop shirt - Nathan called him Gr - elbows his way to the front of the crowd and approaches us.

"Na-than," he greets and nods, then glances at me. "Aw-dree."

"Hi," I say, still staring around at all the Corpses. This many of them are changing - feeling and thinking and dreaming? This isn't just a little change anymore. This is an epidemic.

"R-ready, for f-fight," Gr says, gesturing over his shoulder at the crowd.

"I can see that," I say. "This is incredible."

Nathan steps forward and fixes Gr with one of his stormy, intense looks. "B-boneys, coming."

The sentence has barely left his mouth when there's a clatter and cracking sound from above us, accompanied by the shrill sounds of sharp points being dragged across glass. All of us look up and my heart plummets. There's a cavernous dome of glass windows above us and its crawling with shadowy figures, their shapes dark against the steel gray sky of early morning.

Boneys.

* * *

**GR**

Corpses don't feel fear, but as I look up at the Boneys creeping across the glass above us, I'd have to say that's the closest thing I can think of to describe the concern in my mind. It's not concern for myself though. My eyes flick sideways to Nathan, his expression alarmed, and there's a sharp pain in my chest. Nathan. My Nathan.

I might only get flashes of memories but of that I'm certain. Nathan is mine. My boy, the little boy with the broken arm tucked beneath the homemade quilt. The little hand that fit inside my own. He's all grown up now, and he may not remember the truth anymore, but I know who he is. My  _son_.

There are resounding echoes as the glass dome trembles, narrow white cracks shooting across the surface and branching like winter hoarfrost. I can see the way the glass is shaking, ready to crumble beneath the weight of the Boney horde that is bearing down on it. They are seconds from getting in.

Turning, I grab Nathan's shoulder to get his attention. "Go," I say, gesturing with my chin toward the corridor they just came from.

"No. Gr," Nathan argues, his eyes narrowed and determined. My lips don't move but on the inside I smile. Stubborn Nathan.

"Go," I repeat. "B-be, safe." I seize the little golden shield on the chain around my neck and yank, breaking the flimsy ball-chain. Taking Nathan's hand, I press the badge into his palm. "Go."

"Gr," Nathan says again. His fist closes around the shield but he doesn't move. His eyes, blue-gray and wide, are sad. He always was a bit intuitive about emotions. He knows this is goodbye. And he's not going to listen to me. Never did Before either, I think.

Deciding I need to bring out the big guns, I turn instead to Audrey. "G-go," I tell her. "K-keep, him s-safe."

Audrey's eyes seem a bit watery but she grits her teeth and nods. "Thank you," she says. And to my surprise, she leans in and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. The touch is warm -  _warmth_. It's been so long since I've known warmth. Audrey smiles sadly and then she takes Nathan's empty hand and pulls.

Nathan doesn't look away from me but at Audrey's insistent tugging he takes slow, steady steps backward. I don't break eye contact, holding onto this moment. Nathan. No, not just Nathan. Nathan and Audrey. He deserves her, deserves the good and warmth. He always did deserve better than what this life gave him. Maybe now, with her, he can find it.

There's a horrible shriek and my eyes fly up just in time to see the spiderwebs of cracks finally surrender to the weight. I duck my head as giant shards of glass rain down and bring with them dozens of Boneys. By some miracle I don't get impaled by any of the larger pieces of glass, although the little fragments shred a patchwork of cuts into my clothes and skin. When I finally dare lift my head it's to see a Boney straightening up directly in front of me.

My hackles immediately rise and I snarl defensively. The Boney hisses in response, swiping a hand out and catching me by the throat. Over its shoulder I can see Nathan, struggling against Audrey's grip and trying to rush back into the fight. No, I can't have that. He has to go. He has to be safe.

"Run!" I say. Or try to say, because something is wrong with my voice. The Boney's released me but I can see tatters of greyish skin on its tapered claws. I touch my throat, feeling the deep gouges there, and my fingers come away covered in rust-coloured blood. Well damn.

Looking up, my eyes search out Nathan's. He's still standing exactly where he was before, apparently stunned into stillness. As our eyes - just like mine, his are; he may have gotten his mother's face but the eyes are mine - meet, a look of anguish rushes across his face.

"Dad!"

And for the first time since Before, a smile dashes across my lips. Dad. He knows.

The Boney grabs my face in its cold hands and with a quick twist I fe---


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**NATHAN**

"Dad!"

The pain that shoots through my chest is unlike anything I've ever known. I double over, clutching my chest, and I can't stop the choked sound of agony that breaks through my lips. Distantly I can still hear the sound of fighting, and closer is Audrey's panicked voice, but it all feels oddly disconnected.

Gr. Somehow in that moment, when our eyes connected and I saw the resignation to the end in his gaze, I realised what I feel like I secretly knew all along. Gr is -  _was_  - my father. Not just because he's the one who turned me. No, he knew me Before. He raised me. Gruff, ornery Gr was my father.

"Nathan." Audrey is tugging at my arm, her voice desperate and scared. "Nathan, I'm so sorry, but we've got to go."

I look up but I can't see Gr's body through the chaotic mess of Corpses and Boneys. Instead my eyes drift down to my palm, where I'm clutching the badge from Gr's uniform so tightly that it's leaving marks in my skin. Gr.  _Chief_.

"Nathan, please!"

The terror in Audrey's voice shakes me out of my stupor and I finally look up. I didn't think about it at the time, but my shout has attracted Boneys. There are three of them stalking towards us, watching us predatorily. Through her grip on my arm I can feel Audrey shaking.

Pain vanishes and is immediately replaced by determination. Audrey is in danger and no matter what I am experiencing - feeling, I was actually feeling - I have to keep her safe. I tuck Gr's badge into my pocket and take Audrey's hand. "Run."

* * *

**DWIGHT**

We've reached a split in the corridor and I signal to the man behind me, pointing him toward the left path while I go down the right. The distant sounds of shrieks and fighting are echoing off the concrete walls but for all I know they could still be miles off. It doesn't matter though, I'm not looking for the main battle. Vince has me looking for Audrey Parker.

I always knew that girl was going to be trouble, but I never expected this. Running off with a Corpse? Vince told me about her theory that the Corpses are getting better. Wouldn't that be nice? I'm not quite so optimistic though. After all this time it's hard to think that things can get better.

But then, maybe Audrey is on to something; that Corpse with her was pretty convincing. I can't believe I actually let a Corpse walk right passed me without realising. It's only now that I'm thinking about it that I can pick out how awkward his gait was. Should've checked his eyes, you can always tell by the eyes.

Course I also can't believe I let Nathan Wuornos walk passed me without recognising him. I might've only met him a couple times a few years back, but he's something of a legend among the Guard members. The former police detective helped start the Guard and he practically ran it for the first year or so until he ran off in search of his father. I should've recognised him.

I round the corner and immediately fall back as something collides with my head. I hit the ground hard, sprawling across the pavement and sending my gun flying from my hands, and it takes a second to get my breath and my vision back. Once I do my blood runs cold. There's a Skeleton standing at my feet, snarling through its lipless mouth.

Panicked, I look around for my gun but it's ten feet away against a pillar. I draw the knife from my belt but I know that it's not going to do much good against a Skeleton. Sitting up, I prepare myself for the inevitable as the Skeleton lunges for my throat.

At the last second it's suddenly sent flying backward and I almost drop my knife in shock. A Corpse stumbles passed me, hefting a piece of thick board, and swings it against the fallen Skeleton's head. The skull cracks with a sickening noise and spills black, sludge-like material all over the concrete.

The Corpse turns on me and I instinctively flinch backward. Its face is streaked with brown and black blood, and there's bits of flesh caught in its rotting teeth. It staggers forward and I lift my knife defensively. It seems to regard the blade curiously for a second, drops the wooden board - and then it offers out a hand to me.

Perplexed, I stare at the extended hand in shock. Is it - is it actually offering me a hand up? I mean, it technically did just save my life, I suppose. But I had thought it did that so it could be the one to kill me. Territorial behaviour isn't unusual in Corpses. Yet it's standing here, one hand held out expectantly.

Maybe Audrey was right...

I tentatively switch my knife to the other hand and then accept the Corpse's hand. It's cold fingers tighten around my wrist and it tugs, pulling me almost effortlessly to my feet. I'm a bit taller than the Corpse but it doesn't look frightened or defensive as it stares back at me through gray-tinted eyes. "Thanks," I say, because it did save my life after all.

The Corpse grunts and nods in acknowledgement. Then it picks up the wooden board and shambles off, pausing to kick at the dead Skeleton briefly on its way. I watch until it disappears around another corner and then I walk over and pick up my gun.

A Corpse just saved my life. It just killed a Skeleton to keep me safe. And it seemed almost  _tame_. Whatever is going on, Vince needs to know about this.

Grabbing the radio on my belt, I press the button. "Teagues, I've got Corpses fighting Skeletons here," I said, still amazed by the words as they came out of my mouth.

Vince's response comes almost instantly, stern and clipped. "Say that again."

"A Corpse just saved me from a Skeleton," I explain. "And then just walked off."

"We've got that too," another voice says over the radio. "Corpses fighting Skeletons. Lots of 'em." Three more soldiers chime in after that saying that they've seen the same things, and then a long, pregnant silence stretches over the radio waves as we all wait for instructions.

"Your orders stay the same," Vince says finally. "Has anyone seen Audrey?"

"She's with the Corpse," one of the men answers. "We saw them heading toward the north balconies a few minutes ago. We're in pursuit now."

"Find her and bring her in safe," Vince says and then the radio clicks off and it's silent again.

Lifting my gun, I turn toward the north and start jogging. I see a pair of Corpses but they simply glance at me and then continue on their way without so much as a growl. My finger hesitates on the trigger but I can't bring myself to pull it. What if Audrey's right? What if they are changing, getting better even? I don't want more blood on my hands than there needs to be, even if it is just Corpse blood.

I take my finger off the trigger and head deeper into the building. I'm not shooting anything unless it attacks me first, damn what Vince says.

* * *

**AUDREY**

There's a stitch in my side but I can't stop running. Beside me Nathan is sprinting, moving with more grace than I've ever seen him. My heart is aching for him and I wish there was some way I could comfort him. I know that seeing Gr killed was painful for him - it was obvious from the beginning that the two were close. But worst of all was hearing Nathan's agonised shout as Gr died.

 _Dad_.

Gr was his dad. I don't know whether he means his creator or his actual birth father, but either way it's clear that the loss is hard on him. And yet here he is, charging on, fighting to keep me safe in the way he always has been since the very beginning.

I pivot to fire over my shoulder again and as I do my ankle turns underneath me. I yelp as I fall over backwards, the air rushing out of me when my back strikes the concrete and my head bouncing off the ground. "Audrey!" Nathan shouts and I can hear his boots scraping across the ground as he skids to a stop a few yards ahead of me. I can't focus on him though, because one of the Boneys is looming over me.

Trying to steady my swirling vision, I aim my gun and fire. The bullet blasts through the Boney's shoulder with a crunch and it snarls as it bears down on me. A clawed hand closes around my wrist and twists the nose of the gun away. Its breath is acrid on my face as the Boney leans in and sniffs. I whimper as I try to force the Boney away but it's stronger than me and as much as I try to fight it off, it gets closer.

The Boney suddenly flies sideways and my face is spattered with dark gore. Nathan is standing over me, a fire extinguisher in his hands as he growls angrily at the crumpled Boney. He steps forward and bashes the Boney twice more in the head before tossing aside the extinguisher. "You - okay?" he asks, his expression immediately softening from fierce Corpse to gentle human as he turns to me.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I say, rubbing my face to wipe away the Boney sludge. Nathan holds out his hands and I let him pull me up, and his hands on my shoulders steady me as my ankle twinges. I look around and see the second Boney in a heap, its head twisted around at an unnatural angle. As I try to get my bearings Nathan is checking me over for injuries, his expression tense and concerned. "I'm okay, honest," I assure him with a small smile.

"Good," Nathan says and he brushes his fingertips against my cheek gingerly. I smile at the tender motion but we don't get a moment to catch our breath. A screech from down the corridor makes us both jump and we spot the handful of Boneys drawn in by the noise of the fighting. Without preamble, Nathan grabs my hand and drags me behind him as he starts running again.

My ankle is killing me but I keep pace with Nathan, never letting go of his hand. It's the one thing keeping me going, the comforting coolness of his palm against mine. The winding concrete pathways start to blur as he dodges through them trying to lose our followers. We've rounded so many corners I have no idea which direction we're heading anymore.

I can barely breathe by the time we have climbed another sloping walkway and the Boneys are directly on our heels. Nathan bolts toward a steel door on our left and throws it open, tugging me through after him. We immediately stop short when we realise that a low ledge in front of us is the only thing separating us from open air. It's a small circular balcony protruding from the side of the building.

"Dead end," I pant. Both of us turn to head back the way we came but the doorway is surrounded by Boneys. My heart drops into my stomach as the reality hits me.  _Dead end_  is an oddly accurate description. "We're trapped."

"No," Nathan says firmly. He steps up onto the low cement ledge and then takes my arm, pulling me up with him. His gaze meets mine, determined and intense, as he holds my upper arms to help me keep my balance as the morning wind whips around us. "Keep you safe."

Then before I can process exactly what is happening, Nathan wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight against his body. In one swift move he twists and tips backward, sending us plummeting over the edge of the balcony into the open air.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**NATHAN**

Falling is a new sensation for me and I have to say, there's something almost euphoric about it. The complete lack of gravity, like I'm floating freely in water. Only it's even better than that because Audrey is wrapped up securely in my arms, her hands fisted in my shirt and her head tucked in beneath my chin. So much touch, so much warmth. It's like heaven.

And then we hit the water.

I knew that the moment was coming - I had been aiming for the courtyard pool when I threw us off of the balcony, obviously - but that didn't prepare me for the actual moment of impact. I don't need to breathe in the first place, but the shock of my body striking flat against the water still manages to make me gasp. As we sink under the surface water rushes into my lungs and fills me completely. It almost hurts.

The force of the fall drives us downward and as I watch the rippling surface get further away, the back of my head hits the concrete bottom of the pool and the world snaps to black.

* * *

**AUDREY**

I had been so sure that I was plummeting to my death that the rush of water stuns me. When we finally stop falling it takes me a minute before I remember that I can move. I instantly propel myself up, gasping in air to fill my aching, empty lungs. I comb my hair back off my face and wipe the water away so I can see.

We fell into a large pool that looks like it might've been a fountain at some point Before, sitting in the courtyard in front of the stadium's official entrance. It's only chest-deep and the water is stale and stagnant, littered with leaves and other bits of debris. The water is lapping and splashing at the sides from the ripples of our landing.

It's then that I realise I'm standing alone in the pool. Nathan hasn't come up yet. My eyes flick downward and I see his fractured image through the waves of water, lying still as death on the bottom of the pool. "Nathan!" I shout in alarm. I dive under the water and grab him by the front of his jacket, dragging the heavy, dead weight of his body up to the surface.

"Nathan, Nathan wake up!" I plead, clutching his jacket with one fist and tapping the side of his face with the other. "Please, Nathan, please be okay. Wake up!"

Nathan's eyes snap open and he sputters, coughing out a mouthful of dirty water. He finds his own legs and stands up, towering over me as he swipes his fringe back off his forehead. Frowning, he prods the back of his head where it must have struck the floor. My heart leaps at the familiar pout on his lips.

"Thank God you're alright," I say and throw my arms around his neck. Nathan returns the embrace after a moment of surprised stillness, and he nuzzles his head into the curve of my neck as he pulls me close.

It feels good, better than I ever imagined it could. We're practically the same temperature now because of the cold water. I never really realised before just how much taller he is than me but I'm hyper-aware of it now as he envelopes me in his arms. There are so many emotions running through me - happiness, gratitude, relief, affection - and I try to pour it all out through the hug.

We stand there long enough that I've started shivering before we finally draw back from each other. I glance up and meet his storm-coloured gaze and I feel a strange leaping in my chest. The sort of feeling I've gotten used to feeling around him, the same way I had felt when he had appeared there below the balcony in Haven. Before I even realise what I'm doing - before I can think and overanalyze and talk myself out of it - I stand on my toes and press my lips against Nathan's.

I lower myself back down and meet Nathan's eyes, wondering what he is thinking. His eyes are always so expressive, telling his every emotion like the pages of a book. In them I see awe, fascination, wonder -  _love_. "Wow," he breathes softly and I grin in reply.

This time Nathan is the one to make the first move. He cups a hand over the back of my neck and pulls me up to him, crushing our lips together eagerly. I grab onto the lapels of his jacket and drag myself closer, returning the kiss enthusiastically. I don't think about the fact that I'm a human and he's a Corpse, that I'm alive and he's dead. I just think about Nathan - calm, patient, determined Nathan - and how much I've grown to rely on his presence over the last few days. How much I need him in my life.

How much I love him.

When we finally part for air my head is spinning. I smile up at Nathan, ready to tell him just what I've realised, but something catches my attention and stops the words on my tongue. There are needles of blue shooting through the irises of his eyes, widening and spreading and chasing away the gray. In a split second his eyes are the deep cobalt blue of the ocean in summer.

"Wow, Nathan, you-"

* * *

**NATHAN**

I don't hear the rest of her sentence because it suddenly feels like something has exploded inside of my chest. It's the same sporadic pain I've been feeling off and on all week, only stronger. Just like before, the pain is gone as quick as it came.

"Nathan?" It's only as Audrey speaks that I realise I'm bent over so far my face is nearly in the water, clutching at my chest with white knuckles. I open my mouth to tell her that I'm fine but then the pain strikes again. It ebbs and flows, knocking my breath away the moment I've caught it.

Wait... my breath?

I suck in air and it eases the spinning in my head slightly. It takes three more consecutive breaths before the reality sets in. I'm breathing. Like, properly breathing. A steady in and out of oxygen filling and deflating my lungs. But Corpses don't breathe.

And what is this throbbing in my chest? It's feeling less painful and it seems to have settled into a steady rhythm now, slightly slower than the breaths that I'm taking but getting progressively faster. I've never felt anything like this before.

"Nathan, what's wrong?" Audrey asks, panicked.

I'm suddenly acutely aware of every inch of my body, inside and out. My skin is overflowing with sensations; the cold and moisture of the water, the scratch of fabric from my clothes, burning pains at random points all over my body. My stomach is curling and twisting, the muscle spasming. And there's a warming thrum all throughout my body. It moves in time with the pains in my chest.

I clutch at Audrey's arms to keep myself from doubling over completely, and as I do I notice something. There's a point inside of my wrist, one of those faint blue lines, that is throbbing in tandem with the pulsation in my chest. Pulsation...

And all at once the truth hits me, making my world tilt on its axis.

"Audrey," I gasp out, looking up to meet her bewildered gaze excitedly. "I-"

Fire erupts in my shoulder, just below the collarbone, and I choke on a shout. The world is swirling in front of my eyes but I see Audrey spin on her heel, placing herself between me and danger. There is a cluster of soldiers gathered around the edge of the pool and there in front, a handgun raised, is the man from the Compound. Vince.

"The next one's the head," Vince growls dangerously. "Audrey, get out of the way."

"No," Audrey says firmly, holding out her arms to further shield me from the guns. "No, please, Vince, he's different. You have to listen to me."

"Move, Audrey," Vince says again, pulling back the hammer with his thumb.

My chest is still thrumming in a pattern but suddenly there are other things catching my attention. Pain - real, burning, agonising pain - is cropping up all over. My arms, my chest, my stomach, my legs, my back. Thick knots of white-hot aching in my muscles. There are spots of glimmering torment everywhere. The world starts to sway in front of my eyes again and it's all I can do to stay on my feet as I press my palm into the bullet wound in my shoulder.

"Please," Audrey says, not budging from in front of me. "We can fix all of this, Vince. We can make things better. They need us. They need our help. They're changing. Look, he's changing. He's - " Audrey turns back to look at me and stops midsentence. She grabs the hand over my shoulder and lifts it, staring at my palm. It takes me a moment to realise why.

It's covered in blood.

But not the brown, thick, tar-like blood that I am used to having stalled in my veins. No, this blood is dark maroon and watery, spilling out of my shoulder and spreading out into great flowers of red in the water between Audrey and I.

"He's bleeding," Audrey breathes in awe. Her eyes flick up to mine and I can see the same wonder there that I'm feeling. "Nathan, you're bleeding. You're alive?"

"Y-yeah," I stammer out. Because that's what the pulsing pain in my chest is: it's my long-dormant heart stuttering into life again. It's slow, still not moving at the sort of pace it should be, but it's beating. My heart is beating, pushing blood through my veins and bringing warmth and life to a body that's been dead for so long.

I'm alive.

Audrey looks back at the men on the edge of the pool and raises her voice. "He's bleeding," she tells them, stepping sideways to show them the scarlet-tinged water. "Look, he's bleeding. Corpses don't bleed."

Vince's hand wavers and he lowers the gun ever so slightly. Behind him several of the soldiers drop their guns in surprise, glancing from me to Vince. Awaiting orders. "Sir," a large man with a blond ponytail prompts. I recognise him distantly but my vision is slipping out of focus so it's hard to remember just where I know him from. When Vince doesn't respond, the blond says again, "Sir?"

For a moment Vince and I just stare each other down. And then Vince slowly lowers his gun.

In a flash the blond has stepped up to the edge of the pool and he's gesturing for us to come closer. "C'mon, Nathan," Audrey says, taking my arm and pulling me forward. I try to step but my leg gives out beneath me.

I slip down beneath the surface of the water and as I do I can see that there's so much blood, way more than there should be. It's coming not just from the shot today, but from the bullet hole in my other shoulder where Chris shot me and the knife wound in my sternum from Audrey and a dozen other places. Every unhealed wound that I've gotten since becoming a Corpse is dripping now that I have circulation again and my traitorous heart is pulsing it out of my body with each beat. I'm only just alive and already it's trying to kill me again.

My mind barely registers the fact that I'm above the water, that I can breathe. The large blond man is dragging me up out of the pool and onto the pavement. I can hear Audrey's voice, high and panicked, darting around my head. Yes, there, that warmth on my cheek, that's her. I would recognise her touch anywhere.

"Nathan," Audrey says, leaning in and pressing her forehead to mine. "Please, Nathan, hold on. I can't lose you now. Not like this. Just hang in there. Please. For me."

Darkness has taken over my vision and I can feel myself losing consciousness. Panic wells in me when I realise I've never told her. Never told her what made me save her life that day in the hospital, what drove me to protect her all this way, what brought me to Haven when I knew she was in trouble. What made me take a leap of faith off the side of a building on the chance of keeping her safe. What brought me back to life.

"'Dree." My voice is a weak slur because I can't seem to get my tongue to cooperate.

"I'm here Nathan," she says, stroking my cheek gently. Hmm, that feels nice.

"Dree," I say again because I know I've only got seconds left. "L-love, you."

There's a strangled sob and I feel a press of lips against my forehead. "I love you too, Nathan." And I smile as my last thread of consciousness unravels out of existence.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

 

**AUDREY**

It's been hours and I still haven't gotten any word. I pace a frantic line, a jagged zig-zag in my distraction, in the hallway while the doctors are working away on the other side of the second door on the left. Working to save Nathan's life. The life he only just got back.

Everything is such a whirlwind in my head that I can't keep track of anything. The morning started with trying to persuade Vince that the Corpses were changing. Then we were running, first from the people of Haven and then from the Boneys. Nathan lost his friend Gr - no, not his friend. His father. And then we fell into the pool, Nathan using his own body to cushion my landing.

The split on the back of his head was just one more injury that came back to haunt him when his heart started beating.

I take in a shaky breath as I think over that mesmerising fact again. His heart beats. He's alive. By some strange miracle of fate, Nathan has come back from the dead. Which means it's possible for the others as well. There's a chance that the other Corpses can get their lives back too.

Somehow, we found a cure.

The front door opens and a moment later Duke appears at the end of the hall, his hair coming loose from the ponytail and his eyes panicked. When they fall on me his face visibly blanches. "Jesus, Audrey," he says and he hurries toward me. His eyes are lingering on my chest and when I look down I realise it's because my shirt is stained a bright crimson.

"It's not mine," I say to assuage the terror on Duke's face. "It's his."

"Is he okay?" Duke asks, knowing right away who I'm talking about.

"I don't know." A choked sob fights its way up my throat and I press my knuckles against my lips in a futile attempt to keep it in. "I don't know, Duke. It's been hours and no one has said anything. There was just so much blood. What if... What if he-?"

"No, don't think like that," Duke says immediately. He puts a hand under my chin and tilts my head up so I'm forced to meet his gaze. "He'll pull through. He's a fighter, Audrey. And he's got you to come back to so that can't hurt."

My lip quivers and Duke folds me into his arms. I cry silently into his shirt in the middle of the hallway, letting out all of the emotions that I've had to keep bottled in for the last twenty-four hours. A hurricane of feelings rushes through me and by the time my eyes run dry, I'm exhausted.

We sit down against the wall opposite the door and Duke slings an arm around my shoulders. I lean into him companionably and we settle ourselves in to wait.

I have no idea how much time has passed before Duke shakes me awake with a whispered, "Audrey." My eyes reluctantly pry open, but once they land on the doctor I bolt upright so quickly the world tilts a little.

"Nathan?" I ask breathlessly. God, there's so much blood on her clothes.

The pretty doctor smiles and nods, her rich red-brown ponytail bobbing. "He's going to be okay," she says. "It was touch and go for a bit but he should make it." My legs are shaking so badly that I have to lean on Duke for support as relief rushes through me.

"What happened to him?" Duke asks.

"Corpses heal more slowly than humans," the doctor explains. "When his heart restarted and got the circulation going again, it forced blood into all of those unhealed injuries. We also had to remove a few stray bullets and bits of shrapnel that the skin had healed over so they wouldn't cause him any more trouble. And it'll take a while to replenish the blood he lost, because we don't have the supplies to perform a transfusion." She smooths down the front of her blood-stained scrub top. "But you'll be happy to know his heart rate is rising slowly but surely towards normal and so is his core temperature. Give him a few days and he'll be just like any one of us, only with a few more scars."

"Can I-?" I can't even bring myself to finish the hopeful sentence but it turns out I don't need to because she nods again.

"He's asleep right now, we had to give him quite a bit of sedative to counteract the pain, but you're welcome to sit with him," she says and steps out of the way of the door.

"Thank you so much, Doctor...?"

"Callahan," she supplies. "Claire Callahan."

"Thank you Claire," I say and then I slip passed her into the room.

There's a single bed set up in the middle of the spare bedroom and Nathan is lying on it, tucked in beneath an old wool blanket. His clothes are gone but in their place are countless bandages. Strips of white wrap around his arms, head, and chest, and I imagine that they probably continue down underneath the blanket as well.

Still, despite it all, he looks alive.

Duke brings in a chair and sets it beside the bed with a knowing smile. "I'll be upstairs, just shout if you need me," he says. I can't express my gratitude, but he just grins and kisses my forehead. "Take care of zombie boy."

I chuckle as he lets himself out of the room and leaves me alone with Nathan. Repositioning the chair by the bed, I sit down and take Nathan's hand - one of the few bits of him not wrapped in gauze - in both of mine.

 

* * *

 

**NATHAN**

The pain is the first thing I'm aware of, which is odd because last thing I remember, I couldn't feel anything. Except no, that's not true. I remember the touch of warmth that came from Audrey's skin. I remember the phantom throbs in my chest. I remember the feeling of heartbreak.

The further I come out of the fog in my head, the more pronounced the pain gets. It's an all-over aching, but its definitely worse in certain spots. My shoulders, my stomach, the back of my head, the back of my left calf, my right upper arm. Also the further I come out of the fog, the more I can remember. The details come back to me one by one until I'm reliving the fall, the landing, the pool.

I allow myself a few minutes to just sit and enjoy the feeling of my heart beating. Now that I know what it is, now that the muscle is starting to settle back into its old pattern and function, it hurts less than it did before. With time the muscle will strengthen itself and soon I won't even notice it anymore. Except I don't know if I could ever do that. I don't think I'll ever take the steady throb of my heart for granted again.

Breathing in deeply, I'm met with the smell of brightness and white and purple and life. The combination is unmistakable. I gingerly force my eyelids apart and when I look down the length of my body I see a heap of blonde hair nestled on top of my left hand. It takes me a few tries to summon up enough breath but I finally manage to scratch out, "Au-drey."

Her head shoots up so fast that my tired eyes have a hard time tracking the movement. A brilliant smile spreads across her face. "Nathan, hey," she says, straightening up and combing back the twisted curls of hair that have fallen around her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurt," I answer, but I'm having a hard time sounding upset by that fact. Honestly, I'm just thrilled that I can feel anything. I hurt, but at the same time I can feel the softness of the bed, the rub of the sheets on my bare skin, the brush of air flowing across my ultra-sensitive nerve endings. I can feel my stomach twisting with hunger - and proper food hunger, not Hunger - and the flow of air in and out of my lungs. I feel it all and it's euphoric.

Audrey seems to sense what I'm thinking because she traces her fingertips along the lines of my wrist and hand. They pause at the little patch inside of my wrist where I can see the vein jumping with my heartbeat. "You have a pulse," she says and a faint smile crinkles up the corners of her eyes.

I feel my own lips curl. "Alive," I say and the word comes out like a prayer.

"You're alive," she agrees and I can see a bead of moisture hovering along her lower lashes. It looks like liquid crystal, bright and beautiful because it's not a tear of sadness. She's happy. "The doc says you're going to pull through all right. It'll take a little while for your muscles to get used to the blood flow and get back to full health, but you'll get there. You're going to be okay."

There's a waver in her voice that makes me frown. "Audrey?" I ask uncertainly, because just a moment ago she was happy.

"Sorry," she says and quickly wipes at her eyes. "I just - you really scared me, Nathan. I thought I was going to lose you."

"Sorry," I say, tightening my grip on her hand.

She gives a watery chuckle. "It wasn't your fault," she points out. "It was just the way it happened. Just - " she looks up and meets my gaze, her eyes burning with that fire and passion that drew me to her in the first place, "Just don't scare me like that again, okay? You're not just my partner anymore."

"P-partner?" I ask with a small smile.

Audrey shrugs. "It sounded better than 'travel buddy.'"

I smirk - _wow, that's a new expression_ \- and nod. "Partners," I agree. Then I thread my fingers between hers and add, "And m-more."

My eyelids are inordinately heavy and I can't seem to stop them from drifitng downward. There's a fuzzy feeling in the back of my head that's making it hard to focus. Audrey seems to recognise the struggle on my face because she smiles. "You're tired, Nathan," she says affectionately. "You've had a long day and you've got a lot of healing to do. Get some sleep."

Sleep. Proper, human sleep. "Yeah," I say, already feeling the pull of exhaustion. Then I open my eyes again, not having realised they'd closed, as a thought occurs to me. "Stay?"

The smile that greets me in response is sweet and bright and gentle all at once - sometimes it amazes me how many feelings a human can have at once. I wonder distantly if I will ever be like that again, so full of emotions that they seep out into the air around me like an aura. "Yeah, I'll stay," she says and settles herself back into the chair, never letting go of my hand. "Don't worry, Nathan, I'll be here when you wake up."

I nod and let my eyes flutter closed again. And there, somewhere between waking and sleep, I hear her add, "I'll always be here."


	25. Epilogue - Six Months Later

**NATHAN**

I wake from visions of blood and death and monsters to find myself sitting up in bed, panting hard and covered in a cold sweat. It takes me a full minute to remember that I'm not, in fact, in the middle of a deserted highway and covered in gore, but safe in Haven in the bedroom I share with Audrey. There's a groan from the other side of the bed and I immediately still, hoping I haven't woken her up. She simply mumbles something and rolls over, burrowing her face in the pillow.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I throw off the blankets and get up. There's no way I'll be able to get back to sleep now. In just my flannel sleep pants I wander to the door that leads to the balcony and slip outside.

The night breeze is cool and smells of ocean, and I inhale deeply. There are practically no lights on in the city at this time and the cloudless sky is dotted with pinprick stars. I lean on the railing and tilt my head back, tracing patterns in the stars as I try to clear my head.

It's been six months since I first came to Haven. Six months since meeting Audrey and fighting Boneys and falling in love. Six months since I magically came back from the dead.

And even still, the memories of my former life haunt me when I'm sleeping. They come less often than they used to, but it doesn't make them any less vivid or frightening. It physically hurts me to remember the way my life was before Audrey Parker.

In my dreams I'm wrapped once again in that numb, unfeeling void, separate from the rest of the world like I'm nothing more than a ghost. Worst of all though is the things I did. The lives I took. I know that it was necessary, that it was the only thing that kept me alive, but that doesn't do much to ease my conscience when I think about all of the people who lost the ones they love because of me.

Things have gotten better in six months though, not just for me but for the world. The humans began to accept us and that was the key. We slowly began learning to live again, creating relationships and finding hobbies. But Audrey and I had found the most important piece to the cure - love.

I wish I could say we cured the Boneys with love too but honestly we just straight up massacred them all. Once we teamed up with the humans, the Boneys never stood a chance. The ones that we didn't kill just wasted away without a food source. It took time, but eventually the world beyond the wall was safe again.

It seemed impossible once, but the world is coming back to life.

I can hear the soft scrap of bare feet on the stone balcony so I don't jump when I feel a pair of thin arms slip around my waist. Audrey lays her cheek against my back. "You okay?" she whispers against my skin. "Another nightmare?"

I cover her hands with mine. "Memories," I admit. I wish I could say that they were the memories from Before that I'm getting back, but it's not. It's not my life Before that haunts me, it's what I was in the After. Some days I can't decide what's worse: being a monster, or being human again after.

Audrey doesn't need any more explanation than that. This isn't the first time she's found me out here in the middle of the night. She slips beneath my arm so she can stand in front of me, one of her hands pressed against my chest. Beneath her palm I can feel the steady throb of my heart. My living heart.

"This is who you are now," she says. She kisses my sternum. "It's who you've always been to me."

I smile and wrap her in my arms. It doesn't make the guilt go away, doesn't stop the pain in my chest or the nausea from curling in my stomach, but it helps. She helps. When it all becomes too much, Audrey is what keeps me human.

She turns in my arms so her back is pressed into my chest, threading her fingers through mine on her stomach. "Wall comes down today," she says, staring out across the city. I grin against her hair. After months, the world outside the city walls is finally safe enough to live in. The community voted to bring down the wall and start moving out. Rebuilding society and trying to get things back to the way they were.

It's a new beginning for everyone, human and Corpses alike.

"Nathan," Audrey tilts her head back against my collar to look up at me. I hum to show that I'm listening. "You remembered anything more from your life before?"

It comes to me sometimes in snatches, faint ghosts of memories that fade as soon as I wake up. I never know if they're real or fake, except some of them. The ones about Gr mostly. "No," I say and shrug.

Audrey smirks a little at the monosyllabic answer. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I say. I press my lips to the crown of her head. "I like the life I have now. With you."

Pivoting in my arms again, Audrey stands on her toes and kisses me. The contact fills me with warmth and vibrancy and life. It chases away the shadows that lurk at the back of my mind, wipes away the blood on my hands, lifts the weight on my chest.

The sun creeps above the horizon and brings with it a brand new day. A new world. A new life. A life where anything is possible, as long as I have this woman by my side.

I lace my fingers with hers, watching the way our hands fit perfectly together. "Partners." She's so much more than that - friend, lover, healer - but since that day it's become our word. Our label. It means all those things and more, always more.

Audrey smiles and nods, curling herself into my arms. "Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely little piece of fanart created for this story by pandaexpress222 - http://www.deviantart.com/art/WarmBodiesHavenAU-573749592


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